


killing moon

by lukeyandlou



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Slasher AU, Suspense, Thriller, With some twists, classic slasher, if you dont mind character death, teen losers, this is a fun one, we wanted to write a spooky losers club story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeyandlou/pseuds/lukeyandlou
Summary: When they graduate high school, the loser's club decide to celebrate by spending the weekend at Richie's family's lake house. It felt like nothing could go wrong - until they learned that they weren't alone.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 38





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! HisokaTrash and I have had this story planned for ages and we are so excited to bring it to you! This is just a fun little slasher (with some tearjerkers in there as well) and we hope you enjoy this! Comments mean the world! 
> 
> There will be a new chapter every Tuesday.

He looked at his watch.  _ 5:59 AM. _

The sun crept into the corner of the horizon, painting the sky scarlet and pushing the moon back into the night, waiting to re-emerge for the events of the next. 

The morning was brisk, a chill sliding against his cheeks, but the warmth of the start of summer kissed his nose, and he knew today was going to be one for the books. 

Mike expected to be the first one there, even though the clear instructions were to meet at Richie’s at precisely and no later than six am, because he was used to getting up at this time for chores at the farm. He had no idea how he was going to get Richie up, who was never less than five minutes late to school, but he was determined to get to the lakehouse by eight, to everyone else’s protests. 

As soon as Mike began to ponder how he would get himself inside and get that boy out of bed as he walked up the porch stairs, the door shot open. 

“Mike Wazoski!” Richie beamed, throwing his arm around Mike’s shoulder and pulling him in. “I knew you’d get here first. Those other lazy asses probably won’t roll in until ten. God bless your soul.” 

“Wow,” Mike smiled, “You sure are up this morning.” 

“I sure am, Mikey boy!” Richie replied, “This is going to be the best weekend of our entire lives, can you believe that? It’s something I’d like to be awake for.” 

Mike sat himself on the couch while Richie scrambled to the kitchen, pouring more Lucky Charms down his throat straight from the box. 

“We’re stopping at that diner on the way there, aren’t we?” Mike asked. 

“Hell yeah we are. Choice Burgers is fucking bomb, you all haven’t lived yet until you’ve had their pancakes. But what’s wrong with a little pre-game?” Richie responded, his voice muffled by the dry cereal still sitting in his mouth. 

“Okay, Richie,” Mike laughed and shook his head, allowing his vision to drift to the window. A figure was walking up the steps, a firm knock on the door.

“Wow, wonder who that could be,” Richie said, gliding in his socks across the floor and swinging the door open. “Big Bill! A new flannel, I see?” 

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I g-got it as a gra-graduation present.” 

“It looks good, Bill!” Mike said, getting off the couch to hug him.

Ben and Beverly arrived next, hand and hand as they approached the door, Bev’s knock so delicate compared to Bill’s. 

“Richie!” Bev exclaimed as soon as she got in the door, “Why are you still in pajamas? You made me wake up at four thirty in the morning to get myself pretty to be here this early and you’ve just rolled out of bed?” 

“Excuse me? These are cookie monster pajamas! They don’t come off earlier than ten am, no matter where I am! Where were you first period, like, all year?” he responded. 

“Okay, okay. To be fair, I never actually showed up to first period. It’s a miracle I graduated,” she surrendered. 

“So, are Eddie and Stan coming, or what?” Ben asked, all of them looking at each other. 

“For real! It’s ten minutes after we said we were gonna leave, ten for God’s sake! They’re going to give me a heart attack. I’ll die at eighteen, I just  _ know  _ it,” Richie said. 

At that, the door opened, not even bothering to knock. Stan and Eddie stepped in, eagerness in Stan’s eyes while Eddie’s were locked on the ground. 

“Well, well, well, look who decided to come stumbling in ten minutes late,” Richie said, stepping closer and placing his finger under Eddie’s chin to lift it up, “Why the long face, Eddie Spaghetti?” 

“No,” Eddie mumbled, “Not talking. Not alive. Too early.” 

“Sorry we were late. Some people refuse to get out of bed,” Stan said. 

“Fuck you, Stan. Too early,” Eddie said, his eyes drifting closed. 

“Well, now that the gang’s all here,” Richie said, taking Eddie’s hand. Eddie was too tired to push it away. “Let’s get the van loaded, shall we?” 

“Was renting that van really necessary? We could’ve just taken two cars and you’d be like 100 dollars richer,” Stan said. 

“Come on, Stan! What fun is a road trip if we’re all separated?” Bev replied. 

“Thank you, Bevvie, the light of my life. I always knew you were the smartest of the group,” Richie said, “You better watch out, Benny boy. I’m coming for your woman.” 

“Psh, like Eddie would ever allow that to happen,” Ben said. 

“Fuck you, don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie slurred, nearly falling asleep as he stood. 

“We’ve got Eds telling everyone to fuck off on this fine morning! I think today will be a good day,” Richie said, and Eddie tried to hide the sleepy smile on his face as Richie took his hand and led him outside. 

The others shortly followed, they loaded the van, and they went. 

Bill was going to drive first, Stan in the front seat, Mike, Richie and Eddie in the middle and Bev and Ben in the back. Almost as soon as the car started moving, Eddie fell back asleep, his head leaning against Richie’s shoulder. Bev had her legs kicked over Ben’s lap, and she couldn’t help but smile at the way Richie was looking at Eddie’s sleeping face. Like no one else was there to see him. Richie had made a CD for the ride over and back, but he didn’t want to play it until Eddie woke up. So they drove in silence. 

They arrived at Choice Burgers about an hour into the drive.

“Al-Alright guys. We’re he-here,” Bill announced as he put the van in park. 

Eddie stirred awake, slowly opening his eyes and quickly moving his head off of Richie. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Richie told him, “Feeling any better?” 

“Shut up,” Eddie said, rubbing his eyes and opening the car door. 

“Wow, I got a ‘shut up’ instead of a ‘fuck you’! He must be feeling better,” Richie smiled, sliding out of the car. 

“You’re both insufferable,” Stan said, and Mike laughed to himself. A stranger would think they all hated each other. But they loved each other more than a family possibly could. 

“So, these pancakes really are that good, huh?” Ben asked, helping Bev out of the car. 

“They’re to die for, truly,” Richie said, “Everytime my parents and I come up to the lakehouse, we stop here for pancakes on the way and burgers on the way back. It’s tradition.” 

“Table for, um, seven?” the host asked. 

“Ye-Yes, sev-seven would be great,” Bill told her, and she led them to a circular table. 

“What are you kids doing up here so early? You’re not runaways, are you?” she asked. 

“I’m sad to say we’re not that cool,” Ben told her. 

“We graduated high school last week,” Beverly smiled, “We’re out on a trip to celebrate.” 

“Oh! That’s nice, dears,” she said, “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Seven hot chocolates and seven pancake plates, please,” Richie said. 

Eddie put his hand over Richie’s mouth. “Make that six hot chocolates and one coffee, please.” 

“Of course,” she smiled, walking away. 

“Aw, come on Eds, you’ve got to have hot chocolate with it or it’s not the same!” Richie protested. 

“Yeah? Maybe you should have thought of that before you made me get up so goddamn early. I need coffee and I need it  _ now _ ,” Eddie replied. 

“But they don’t even put whipped cream on it,” Richie pouted. 

“And why does it matter to you about whether I have whipped cream?” Eddie asked. 

“Because then it gets on your nose when you drink it, and whipped cream on your nose would be super fucking cute,” Richie answered. 

“Jesus fucking Christ guys, the rest of us are sitting right here too!” Stan facepalmed, “Get a room!” 

“What are you implying, Stanley?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh wa-wait guys. They di-did get a room. To-Tonight,” Bill started to laugh. 

“Right,” Stan shook his head, “Then those walls better be fucking sound proof. I’m not looking to get traumatized tonight.” 

All of them burst into laughter, Eddie’s cheeks beet red as he turned his gaze to the side. Richie made himself laugh lightly, but there was a hint of insecurity in his eyes. 

His pinky finger brushed over Eddie’s under the table in an attempt to comfort him. Eddie locked it with his own. No one noticed. 

The waitress arrived shortly, bringing the hot chocolates and Eddie’s sad looking coffee and pushing them along the table.She was different from the friendly host they had a few minutes ago. She had a scowl on her face, and she left without a word. 

“Nice lady,” Mike commented, taking a sip of his hot chocolate, the whipped cream lingering over his lip. 

“She’s jealous,” Bev took a sip of hers. 

“She’s homophobic, that’s the word,” Richie said, taking a gulp of his rather than a sip. It was a miracle he didn’t burn his throat. “It’d be a shame if someone didn’t get a tip!” 

“Hey, Rich, you’re right,” Eddie said. 

“I’m right?” he asked. 

“The whipped cream does sound good,” he said. 

“Oh yeah?” Richie smirked, and he put his finger in the whipped cream and then booped it on Eddie’s nose. “Here you go, then!” 

He waited for Eddie to smack his hand away and go off about how absolutely disgusting that was, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Eddie laughed. 

“You two are sickening,” Stan said, “But that does look kind of fun.” He flicked some of his own whipped cream at Mike’s face. 

“Hey!” Mike laughed, wiping it from his cheek and flicking some of his back at Stan. 

“So what are doing now? Whipped creaming ourselves?” Bev smirked, and booped some onto Ben.

“Excuse me!” the scowling waitress returned, “What on Earth are you doing?” 

“Wh-Whipped creaming ou-ourselves. Want some?” Bill told her. 

“This behavior must end at once. You’re making a mess,” the waitress said, “Continue, and I’ll have to ask you to leave.” 

“Deepest apologies lady, but don’t kick us out before the pancakes!” Richie pleaded. 

She rolled her eyes, bringing the tray with the pancake platters. “Now, I expect no more shenanigans out of you lot.” She left again. 

“Does anyone else really wanna piss off that lady even more now?” Bev said.

“Obviously. But we’ve got to try these babies first,” Richie said, drenching his with syrup. 

They prepare their pancakes and all take a bite at around the same time. 

“Wow,” Bill said, “Th-these are pr-pretty good.” 

“They are,” Ben said, “I don’t know if they’re as good as Bev’s aunt’s though.” 

“Shut up and eat them, Ben,” Richie said. 

“Can you not talk with food in your mouth? You’re disgusting,” Stan said. 

“What? I’ve got to defend these pancakes from the show off boyfriend,” Richie said. 

“So, the coffee worked and now I’m ready to start shit with this lady,” Eddie said, “What are we doing?” 

“She didn’t like food fights, right?” Richie said, “Well, I never really liked scrambled eggs.” He threw a piece at Stan. 

“Hey!” Stan said, “What the fuck man?” 

“Sorry, your face is very eggable,” Richie said, and Stan threw a slice of pancake at him. 

“And now your cheek has syrup on it,” Stan smiled in pride. 

“I hope there are wipes in the van,” Bev said, and threw a piece at Bill. 

“Oh my Lord!” the woman exclaimed, running over. “You delinquent fools! I demand you leave at once!” 

“Sure thing ma’am, but I’m not going anywhere without your number,” Richie winked. 

The woman scoffed, and Richie pulled out a pile of cash and placed it on the table, and they quickly left. 

“Young man!” she said, “I don’t know if this is enough money for these expenses!” 

“Have a nice day miss! Thanks for the pancakes!” Bev told her, and they quickly left. 

“I’m assuming we won’t be welcomed back for burgers when we head home,” Mike said. 

“Eh, she’ll be off shift,” Richie said, “I’ve got some wipes stored in the glove department. I knew Eds would need them somehow.” 

“Me?” Eddie asked, “This is Stan’s fault!” 

“Well maybe some of us don’t want egg on our face!” Stan said, and they stepped back in the car, wiped their faces off, and began to drive. 

“Alright gang, we’ve got another hour of driving left,” Richie said, “Time to put the mixed tape on.” 

“I don’t think any of us want to hear the bullshit you listen to,” Stan said. 

“No, I’ve got some classics!” he said, pushing it into the player. “Hey Eds, you watched Hannah Montana growing up, right?”

“Hey! I confessed that to you once! Once!” he covered his eyes. 

“Well, this one’s just for you Spaghetti my love,” he said, and Party in the USA began to play. 

“Okay, this is a good one,” Ben said, and turned out that everyone in the van knew every single word. 

So they sang every 2000s song that came on the radio, and before they knew it, the hour had passed. 

“Here it is!” Richie cheered as they approached his family’s lakehouse, practically jumping out of his seat. Eddie looked at him fondly. Again, Bev didn’t miss it. 

The van was parked and they pulled their bags out of the trunk, quickly heading to the door. 

“Wow, this place is nice,” Mike said, admiring the view of the lake and the stone walls. 

“Pretty cool, yeah?” Richie said, “We come here every summer.” 

“Can I go back to sleep?” Eddie asked, “At least until ten.” 

“And miss the tour? You’ve had your coffee!” Richie pouted. 

“Alright, fine,” Eddie said, “Let’s see the tour.” 

Richie skipped around and showed them each room, the back, the front, and the fireplace. Each window had a view of the lake, the sun reflecting against the still water and the trees shadowing the corners. They each settled into their shared rooms, ended up in a pillow fight or two, and soon enough it was time to swim. 

They swam together often in the summer, at the quarry, but this was different than the quarry. This was a place of their own, not a single other person in sight, and they were together. This was theirs. 

“I think I’m gonna go sun tan by the trees,” Bev said, “Richie, care to join me?” 

“Sure,” he said, and soon they were laying beside each other, facing the sun that crept a little past the branches that sheltered them. 

“So,” Bev turned her head to them, “I’ve been observing some things.” 

“Is that so?” he replied. 

“I know how you feel about Eddie,” she said, her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear, “But I’m thinking now he feels that way about you too.” 

Richie’s eyes widened. “Whoa, where are you getting this from Bevvie?” 

“Psh,” she giggled, “Richie, you’re my best friend. So is Eddie. Even besides that, I know heart eyes when I see them. And you having them for Eddie is common knowledge, but I’ve been watching him today. He has them for you too.” 

Richie sighed in defeat. “You really think so?” 

“I do,” she smiled, “He’s trying to be slick about it, but I see right through it. The boy’s got it bad.” 

“I don’t know,” he said, “I mean, I never thought-” 

“It’s okay, honey,” she said, “You deserve this, okay? But it’s not going to happen unless you let it.” 

“The whole thing is just a little scary, you know?” he said, “I’ve loved Eddie since the day I met him practically, yeah, but it’s been different. A different love. Was it scary for you? With Ben?” 

“It was,” she answered, “But I knew one thing. The one thing was that it felt right. He made me feel warm, and I saw him look at me, so I knew he felt the same about me. So I just put my fears aside, bit the bullet, and let it happen.” 

“And you guys are still going good?” Richie asked. 

“Yeah, we’re going great,” she said, “There’s just one thing.” 

“One thing?” he asked. 

“There’s a step I want to take with him, and I’m a little scared to bring it up,” she answered. 

“Wait, it’s been two years and you haven’t done it yet?” Richie asked. 

“No, not that,” she laughed, “That would be a lot easier than this.” 

“Then, what is it?” he asked her. 

“I’m taking a gap year from college, but after that I’d like to study fashion design. And he’s going to school for architecture in Chicago. And it turns out that there’s this really cool fashion school just ten minutes away. I want to ask if he wants me to go with him. Move in with him,” she explained. 

“I see,” he answered, “Well, I’ve got to tell you Bev, there’s no way that he’d say no to that. He’s head over heels for you. Of course he’d want you to come with him.” 

“I just hope I don’t scare him away. We’re only eighteen,” she said, “But do you see what I mean, now? You can see when someone else has that look in their eye for someone, that they’d do anything for them. I see that in Eddie for you too.” 

“But what if you’re wrong? And I try to make a move and he calls me gross and pushes me away and everything’s ruined?” he asked, and for once, he looked a bit small. 

“Then I guess that’s the risk you’ve got to take, for the chance of love. The chance of happiness,” she told him, “Besides, when have I ever been wrong about things like this?” 

“I guess you’re right,” he said. 

“Tell you what,” she said, turning her body to face him entirely. “We’re on vacation right now. One that we’ve planned for years and years. We’ve just graduated, and now we have room for new things. To be new people. People with  _ confidence _ . And this is the perfect place to get everything out. So tonight, you tell Eddie your feelings. I tell Ben I’d like to live with him. We just jump right in and do it. Together.” 

“I don’t know, Bev,” he said, “I’m so scared of losing him.” 

“You have to let yourself feel, Richie. You deserve to let yourself feel.” 

“Alright,” he said, “You’re right. This trip is supposed to be one we’ll never forget, and if I don’t do it now, I probably never will. I’m in.” 

“We got this,” she gave him a smile of encouragement, and they wrapped their pinkies together. 

“We got this,” he repeated. 

The day continued, a lot of swimming and volleyball and everything in between, and then dusk began to fall. 

“Fuck! It’s getting cold,” Eddie complained. 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Richie said, “Because we’ve got a whole ass lakehouse to hang out in, and I brought a couple of joints. You guys in?” 

“Hell yeah,” Bev said, “I could go for that right now.” 

They went inside as the sun fell, and circled around the fireplace. 

Mike let his eyes wander around his friends, talking and laughing and passing a joint. A fond smile grew on his face, and his heart erupted in happiness. He didn’t know how he could ever live without them. 

He wanted to tell them. He wanted to spill about how happy each of them made him, how they were his family. How he would die for them. But he didn’t. 

“I’m going to go to the kitchen and get more soda,” Ben announced. 

“I’ll go with you,” Bev piped, and began to follow him to the kitchen. He saw her turn back to Richie, who gave her a wink. 

“What was that about?” he asked her as she left the group. 

“Oh, nothing,” she said, “Are you having fun?” 

“I am,” he grinned, “It’s so nice to be here with everyone. Like a little escape.” 

“Exactly,” she smiled, “It kind of makes you feel like you could do anything while you’re out here. Say anything. Take risks.” 

“Risks, huh? Like what?” Ben poured the strawberry soda into his plastic cup. 

“I don’t know, it’s just like, we’re not in high school anymore, and that’s really setting in. We have a whole new chapter ahead of us now, a whole new life to look forward to. We could be whole new people, and the same people all at once. Tonight, that begins,” she said. 

“Anything you’re thinking of in particular?” he asked. 

“Ben, um, there’s something I want to discuss with you when we go to bed tonight. It’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a long time, but now that we’re here I finally have the confidence to say it. To plan our next chapter,” she said. 

Ben froze. His eyes widened, and his lip began to quiver. 

“Beverly,” he said, “You don’t mean-” 

“I know it’s going to be a big thing to talk about, but I feel like now is finally the time. We’ll talk about it when we go to bed tonight, okay?” she said, and she forgot to kiss his cheek as she went back to the living room. 

Ben did not follow her. He stood there, gripping his cup, his hand slightly quaking. 

She couldn’t be breaking up with him. Not here. Not while they’re with all of their friends, two hours away from home. Why now? Because this place was giving her ‘confidence’? Bullshit!   
Ben frowned, and made his way outside for some fresh air. He needed a second to breathe. 

He walked a little past the pavement, venturing past the lake and into the trees. The lake which had been so alive a few hours ago, full of splashing and laughter, now so still and serene under the shadows, the reflection of the moon against the water being the only source of light. He decided it was nice out here. It was calming. It was what he needed. 

He leaned against a tree, sipping his soda cup. He felt sick to his stomach. How could she do this? How could she do this  _ now _ ? 

“I know one thing,” he muttered to himself, “I’d rather die than get in that bed.” 

He spent a few moments longer, wondering what possessed Beverly to do something like this when they’re supposed to be having fun. When they’re supposed to be on a trip that they planned for years. Richie winked at her; did he know? Did he encourage this? He was supposed to be his friend too. 

_ Alright, that’s it _ . He was going to march in there right now and see what Beverly had to say. There’s no way to prolong this, no way to escape it. If she wanted to have this conversation now, then they were going to have it now. 

He began to walk. But as soon as his footsteps began, he heard the crunching of leaves behind him. 

He paused. His vision turned from side to side, and no figure was in sight. He was in no company other than the lake and the shadows of the trees. He must have been hearing things. 

He started to walk again. As soon as he moved his legs, the crunching of the leaves returned. 

“Beverly?” he asked, turning around. No one. “Anybody there?” 

Silence. 

It must have been a raccoon. But he didn’t check behind the tree. 

He walked for the third time, and the leaf crunching increased, this time loud and fast, and he was about to turn just as fast when he  _ felt it.  _

A sharp pain through his back, piercing and digging and sending him forward. He lets out a scream that he didn’t know he was holding, but it was muffled as his face dug into the dirt, the sand filling his mouth. He tried to move when a hand pressed against the back of his head, pinning him into the dirt, and he felt warm liquid ooze out of his back and down his t-shirt, and then the piercing returned. Again, and again, and again he was stabbed, all of his screams muffled by the sand pressed against his teeth, and after a few more, the distorted screaming stopped. 

His breathing did too. 

Thirty minutes had passed since Ben had walked outside. Bev had noticed him head out the side door through the side of her eye, but she had let him go. Ben was the type of guy to need his space sometimes when he needed to think. She had given him a heads up that something new was about to happen between them, and that must have provoked some thinking. Maybe she shouldn’t have warned him. But it was too late now to take it back. She only hoped she hadn’t said something wrong. 

But he never stood out by himself this long. It was dark outside, and cold, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket. She began to grow worried. 

“Guys,” she said, “I’m worried about Ben. He’s been out there for a while.” 

“Why i-is he ou-outside anyway?” Bill asked. 

“I just told him that I want to talk about something tonight, and then he left. He likes to be alone sometimes, so I let him. But it’s been a while, and he wasn’t wearing a jacket. I don’t want him to get sick,” she said. 

“Alright,” Mike said, “We’ll go find him.” 

“I brought some instant hot chocolate along too. He can have some to warm up when we find him,” Eddie said. 

“So now you’re suddenly into hot chocolate,” Richie teased. 

“Yeah, because now the sun has set rather than rising and I don’t need coffee to be alive! Shut up now and let us find Ben,” he responded. 

“Okay, okay,” Richie said, “I’m sure he’s just outside the door.” 

They stepped out of the door together, but Ben was not directly outside. 

“He pro-probably went off in-into the wo-woods,” Bill said. 

They walked past the trees calling Ben’s name, traveling far past the lakehouse. They had left the door open. 

“He’s not out here,” Bev said, worry in her voice. 

“Don’t worry Bevvie, he probably snuck back into the house and went to bed while we were out here,” Richie said, “Benny boy is safe and sound, didn’t even bother telling us, that fucker.” 

“You must be right,” she said, “He probably thought I was gonna say something bad. I’ll go talk to him now, and he’ll be alright.” 

They walk back into the lakehouse, shivering a little from the chill of the breeze. Bev leads the group, determination in her eyes. She was going to set things right. 

“Hey,” Richie told her and she began to head towards the room she and Ben were sharing, “Good luck. We got this.” 

“We do,” she winked to him, and she squeezed his hand and went towards the room. 

“Ben?” she called out as she opened the door, “I need to talk to you honey-” 

Ben  _ was  _ there. He was there, laying on his back, the sheet drenched in blood. He was there, no shirt on, with words carved along his chest. 

_ Time to play _ , it said. 

He was there, but he was so completely and undeniably  _ dead. _

Beverly screamed. 


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! sorry for not updating yesterday, but chapters will go back to tuesday scheduling. thank you!

_ Beverly screamed.  _

Her hands rose slowly over her lips, trembling as her nails lightly scratched her cheeks, and she collapsed to her knees. Once she was kneeled over the carpet, her eyes locked on her boyfriend’s slaughtered body laying on the bed and her hands over her face, the world was spinning so fast that she couldn’t even hear herself sob. 

“Beverly?” she heard a voice call out, but she couldn’t recognize who. She fell back against the wall behind the doorway, tears blurring her vision, and the sobs turned into screams. 

Several pairs of urgent footsteps were headed her way, bringing out every creak of the floorboards, and then there was someone by her side.

“Bev? What’s wrong?” Richie started to say as he saw her curled on the floor, facing the inside of the doorway. He stood beside her and peered inside, and as he saw Ben’s body he slammed backward against the wall, letting out a scream of his own. 

“What the fuck!” Stan yelled, pausing beside them, the color draining from his face. Richie had slid to sit beside Bev, pulling her into his arms. 

Bill and Mike ran inside the room, stopping at both sides of the bed. Bill frantically ran his hand over Ben’s face, running his fingers down his cheek, dry tears falling down his face. 

“Fuck,” Eddie said, almost a whisper at first, “Fuck!” 

“We didn’t bring our phones,” Mike’s voice trembled, “How are we supposed to call for help?” 

“Richie?” Bill said, his hand still in Ben’s hair, “I-Is there an-anyone around he-here?” 

“No,” Richie said, still holding Beverly to his chest, “No one else is out here for miles.” 

“Well we can’t just do nothing!” Eddie panicked. “Someone did this! Someone is still around here! Fuck, they must have come in while we were outside and the door was open! They could be in this very house, you know that?” 

“Obviously I fucking know that!” Stan snapped back, “You don’t have to make it worse by reminding us of what we all know is going to happen!” 

“N-Nothing else will ha-happen,” Bill said, mostly reassuring himself.

“It will if we just stand here and let it!” Eddie said. 

“We need a plan of escape,” Mike said, “We have to get out of here and get out of here now. We’ll have to leave our stuff behind.” 

“We can’t leave him,” Bev said through her tears, barely audible as her face was pressed into Richie’s shirt. “We can’t.” 

Richie hugged her tighter and looked up at the others, and although they were all in states of panic, they froze. They all were terrified, and they all were heartbroken and shocked. But they couldn’t imagine how it must be for Bev. 

They looked at each other in silent agreement. They had to pull themselves together. For her. 

“Bevvie,” Richie said with a gentle voice, “We aren’t going to leave him. We’re not. But we have to go for right now, okay? We need to find help. And then we’ll come back for him.” 

Bill left Ben’s side and kneeled down in front of Bev and Richie. “We pr-promise.” 

“We’d never leave him here,” Mike said, “We just have to find some help.”

Eddie and Stan nodded. 

Beverly sat up, wiping the tears off of her face. She stood up, her body still shaking, and walked slowly to the bed. 

“Someone is after us,” she said, looking at the words carved onto Ben’s stomach. She reached for his hand, wincing at the coldness of it as she interlocked their fingers. She turned back to her friends. They stood in a huddle at the doorway, and they were staring at her with a fierce love and compassion. She knew this must be hard for them. Their dear friend had been slaughtered. There was someone on the loose, undoubtedly watching them this very second. But they were holding it together. They were doing it for her and she knew it. 

She couldn’t let this happen to them too. 

So she turned back to Ben, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. She grabbed the corners of the blanket that rested just past his knees, tucking it over his lacerated chest. She leaned in to kiss his forehead, and she turned back to them. “Okay.” 

Richie walked in and reached for her hand, and once she took ahold of it they ran. 

“We’ve got to get in the van and drive to the nearest civilization,” Mike said, “They can help us.” 

Stan was in the front, sprinting towards the van as the rest of the group rushed behind him. 

“Fuck!” he cried in defeat, almost falling into the dirt. 

“What is it?” Eddie asked. 

“They slashed the fucking tires,” Stan said, the others stopping behind him. 

“S-So we run,” Bill suggested. 

“We can’t run,” Eddie said, “We only have enough energy to run for so long. Whoever did this could get to us.” 

“But it’s only one of him against all of us,” Mike said. 

“I wouldn’t risk it,” Eddie continued. 

“Then what else are we supposed to do?” Stan asked. 

“We have to find who did this,” Richie said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world, “We have to deal with it before we leave.” 

“Are you insane?” Stan exclaimed. “You want to find some psychopathic murderer and kill him?” 

“Ri-Richie’s right,” Bill said, “I’m af-afraid we have no other ch-choice.” 

“Guys,” Bev said, her voice small and hoarse. “We have to. We have to fight back. For Ben.” 

They’re all silent for a moment. They look at each other and nod. 

“Okay, so, we go after him,” Mike started, “We’re going to need a plan.” 

“We all n-need wea-weapons, for when we find h-him,” Bill stated. 

“We can find them in the house. My dad has a gun stored here, too. I’ll have that,” Richie said. 

“You’re gonna shoot him?” Stan asked. 

“He’s killing us Stanley, obviously I’m gonna fucking shoot him,” Richie responded.

Eddie took a deep breath, startled by the taste of blood in his mouth from biting his lip too hard. He began to shiver. “Let’s go then. Come on, let’s speed this shit up and kill this guy. I don’t wanna die tonight.” 

“I’d never let you get hurt, Eddie,” Richie consoled. “I’m going to go get my gun and shoot the fuck out of this guy. Let’s go.” 

They ran into the house, rummaging through the kitchen while Richie went into the room to grab the gun, Eddie tagging along behind him. Bill went through the cupboards, grabbing a large knife. 

“There’s fo-four knives in he-here,” Bill announced, “So Ri-Richie has the gun an-and someone else needs a n-new weapon.” 

“Fuck, guys, I don’t know if I could stab someone,” Stan panicked, “It makes that awful squishing sound. I can’t.” 

“I’ve got something for you,” Richie said, returning with both the gun and a baseball bat in hand. “My weapon of choice, but I’ve got to shoot some bullets tonight. So I’m trusting you with it, okay Stanny?” 

Stan groaned. “I guess it’s less gross than stabbing someone.” 

“We don’t know if the killer is inside or outside,” Eddie said, “He could’ve snuck back out while we were out there.” 

“There’s six of us. Three can go outside and three inside. We’ll be safe as long as no one branches off alone for any circumstances,” Mike said. 

“So only one team gets the gun?” Stan shuddered. 

“I’ll stay inside. That’s where he was last so he’s probably still in here somewhere. If team outdoors sees him, jump him with your other weapons. I doubt the guy has a gun,” Richie said. 

“I don’t want to be inside,” Bev whispered, “It’s where Ben…” 

“Okay Bev, you don’t have to stay inside,” Richie consoled her. 

“I’ll st-stay with you Beverly,” Bill forced a smile for her, “You can st-stay with m-me.” 

“I’ll go outside too,” Mike said, “I can help them.” 

“So Stan, Eds and I will search inside,” Richie said, “Sounds like a plan. You going to be okay without me, Bev?” 

“I’ll be okay,” Bev told him, “Just don’t get yourself killed too, okay?” 

“He couldn’t hurt me if he tried. I’ll blow his brains out,” he replied, “Don’t worry Bevvie. We’re going to deal with this and get the hell out of here.” 

Beverly hugged him tightly and then stood back, taking the knife into her hand and standing next to Bill. 

“Alright gang,” Richie said, “Stay safe. I’ll see you in a minute.” 

They nodded to each other and split up. 

“C’mon Bev,” Bill put his arm around her shoulder, “I’ve g-got you.” 

“We both do,” Mike said from the other side of her. 

Bev exhaled. She couldn’t stand looking in this house, but she prayed to God that he was outside. She needed to kill him. 

Bill looked back once at the others as he and his team left the front door. He stopped for a second, because there was no way of knowing if it’d be the last time he’d see them breathing. He couldn’t protect them, but Bev and Mike were right there. He had them to look after. 

Richie, Stan and Eddie watched as the front door shut behind Bill, their friends disappearing. 

“So we just check every room, right?” Eddie asked. 

“Yeah. Just not separately, alright? All three of us check each room together,” Richie answered. 

“And if I see him, I plunge this thing into his throat and then you shoot him?” Eddie asked. 

“I’ll try to shoot him before you have to do that, but it would be smart to suspend him like that,” Richie answered. 

“I don’t mind doing it, Rich,” Eddie said, “I kind of want to rip that guy’s fucking throat out.” 

Stan watched his friends intently, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead. Richie and Eddie both had fire in their eyes, a passion for finding this guy and avenging Ben. A passion for protecting who they had left. Stan felt sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes, not having the strength to look at them or the baseball bat hanging by his clenched fingers. 

“Stan?” Richie asked, “You with us?” 

Stan opened his eyes. The fire was still there, but not all of the warmth was fury. It almost made him feel safe.  _ Almost.  _

“I’m here,” Stan said, “Let’s start checking.” 

Richie nodded, and they headed down the hall. Eddie shyly allowed his fingers to drift towards Richie’s wrist, and Richie took his hand, securing it in his own as they walked. Stan knew Richie would get himself killed before letting anything happen to Eddie. He knew Richie would die for any of them, he would  _ kill  _ for any of them, but Eddie was different. Eddie was special. If something happened to him, Richie would probably die with him. 

Stan grinded his teeth, clenching his nails into his palms until he felt dents mark into the skin. Richie and Eddie were willing to kill. They were able to kill. They all had always said they would die for each other, but now he could see that everyone actually meant it. He shuddered, a tear sliding down his face. He wished he meant it too. 

They reached the first room, and Richie pushed the door open with his gun pointed, Eddie behind his shoulder. As they started to slowly venture into the room, Stan closed his eyes again. 

_ Don’t look.  _

He clenched his eyelids as tightly as he could, the bat lightly hitting his leg as his grip trembled. He tried to listen, ready to hear a scream, or a gunshot, or the gushing of a knife stabbing into flesh. He heard nothing. 

“No one here,” Richie said, “Let’s try the next one.” 

Stan followed closely behind them, trying to stop his lip from quivering. His glance drifted to the bat, his nails digging into the wood. 

_ He couldn’t.  _

Stan exhaled. He loved his friends, he truly did. But he prayed to God that the killer was outside. He couldn’t kill him. 

He let one of his eyelids slide open, seeing Eddie carefully heading to the closet. He walked on his tip toes, holding his blade in front of him. His fingers wrapped around the closet door and pulled it open, and then he screamed. 

“Eddie!” Richie rushed over, holding up the gun. Stan closed his eyes again, silently crying. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie’s voice quaked, “It was just a coat rack. I thought it was…” 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Richie said, hugging him. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you.” 

Stan dropped the bat to the floor, the pang of its impact getting Richie and Eddie’s attention. Stan crumbled. 

“Hey,” they headed closer to him, “Stan, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay!” he cried, “It’s not okay because this morning I woke up and listened to the birds chirping and watched the sun rise when I went to pick up Eddie and I decided that maybe life wouldn’t be so bad anymore and the biggest worry I had was getting that goddamn egg off my face and now Ben’s dead! He’s fucking dead, and there’s a murderer in here and we’re all going to die one by one and we’re going to die because of  _ me.  _ We’re going to die because of me, because all of you are so brave and strong and ready to kill and die for each other and I’m just  _ not.  _ I can’t protect anyone. I can’t protect myself. I just can’t do it, guys, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

He sobbed, locking his eyes on the dirt that lingered on his shoes. Richie and Eddie slowly approached him, and he felt Richie’s hand on his shoulder. 

“Stanley, look at me,” Richie said. 

Stan forced his head up. He hadn’t looked at Richie for a while. Well, he had seen him, but he hadn’t  _ looked  _ at him. He hadn’t seen that he was finally growing a little hair on his chin, and he hadn’t seen that his eyes had gotten a bit softer. He hadn’t realized that he had gotten older. Here he was, looking at his best friend, and he wished he could stare at him forever just because he looked like home. 

So he listened. 

“Stan, you’re not weak, okay? Don’t tell me that shit for a minute. You think I’m not scared? I’m fucking terrified. I’m not as brave as I look. I just love you guys, and that is stronger than my fear. I know you love us too. Even me, somehow. We’re not going to die for that reason, okay? We’re going to protect each other, have each other’s backs, and we’ll catch him. I would never make you do something that would hurt you, but I need you to do this one thing for me, alright? I need you to take that bat and hold it close. If you see him, I need you to swing. You don’t have to kill him, but you need to swing. Do you think you could do that?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. 

“You’ve got this,” Eddie said, “You’d be surprised at what you could do in order to survive. In order to protect what you  _ love _ .” 

Stan paused for a second, and then he nodded. “Okay. I think I can try.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Richie weakly smiled, “Now, come on. Let’s go beat some ass.” 

Stan gently reached down, picking up the bat. He had never seen himself as strong, and he didn’t know if he ever would. But, for now, he could pretend that he did. Just for the night.

From outside, Bev, Bill and Mike had started their walk through the woods. It was very dark outside, and they really wished they had phones right now. They had thought it was a good idea to leave them at home to focus on the authenticity of the trip, but now they were left without outside communication and without flashlights. 

The only guidance they had was the brightness of the moon that was tucked into the sky and its reflection against the lake. 

Bev stood in between them, and although she had stopped sobbing, her body was still trembling. Bill squeezed her shoulder in comfort every once in a while, and she wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked. Mike stood slightly in front of them, his glance wandering through the trees. 

“At least we’ll know if they find him inside,” Mike said, “We’ll hear the gunshot.” 

“He’s pr-probably hiding,” Bill said, “It would be real bo-bold of him to come out now.” 

“Then we’ll find him in his hiding,” Bev said, “He messed with the wrong people.” 

“He could be anywhere around here,” Mike said, “Behind any of these trees, on the sides of the house, anywhere.” 

Bill and Mike continued strategizing, but Bev was dazed off, looking toward the trees. Ben was in the house, but it had happened here. He had been out here with no company other than the cold wind against his cheeks. He had been alone. 

And he had been out here because of her. 

It was her fault he was dead. If she had just pulled up him upstairs right at that moment, or if she had just stood there in that kitchen and told him, he would still be alive. And she couldn’t go back in time, no matter how hard she wished for it, but she could stop her friends from dying too. She could go off and find him,  _ kill  _ him, and leave Mike and Bill out of it. 

Although Bill was talking to Mike, his focus was on Bev, his eyes turning to her every few seconds. She seemed to be in a trance, captivated by the forest and what,  _ who _ , might be in it, and he already knew what she wanted to do. Beverly liked to take things into her own hands, especially her own business, and he knew that she had considered this her own. He could try to tell her that it wasn’t. But that might hurt her even more. 

So he watched. He turned back and forth to her and Mike, and he wished he could just send them inside and deal with this himself. But just like he would have told Bev, this wasn’t his fight. It was  _ theirs.  _ All of them. Someone was targeting them, and someone was watching their every move, planning how to tear them apart. 

Mike noticed Bill’s eyes wander to Bev as he was talking to him, and he couldn’t blame him. He  _ knew  _ Beverly, and he knew what she would try to do. But they couldn’t let her. 

He only hoped that he’d find the killer first. 

But he didn’t. 

Bev noticed a slight movement past the leaves, and it was too dark to see clearly but  _ something  _ was there. She stepped a foot forward, quirking her head and squinting a little. 

Someone  _ was  _ there. 

“Guys,” she whispered, but they didn’t hear her. Before speaking again, she moved one step closer, but small enough that the boys don’t notice. Someone was there, standing halfway behind a tree, and in the moonlight she could vaguely see a white mask staring back at her. 

She looked to Bill and Mike again, who hadn’t noticed a thing at all. 

This was her chance. 

She stared at the masked figure behind the tree, who hadn’t moved an inch even though she was quite sure that he had noticed her attention. He was just  _ waiting  _ there, watching. 

He had killed Ben. 

She knew Ben was dead, had been  _ murdered _ , but the reality of it smacked her across the face as she came into contact with the person who  _ did  _ it. He had killed him. 

Her fists clenched and her body quaked, because she was staring at the person who murdered the boy she wanted to build a life with, who murdered a part of her too. She knew that she needed to tell the others; they needed to make a plan. The three of them could take him on together; they could beat him with logic. 

But she didn’t have logic anymore. There was only rage. 

So she ran. 

“Bev?” Bill asked in alarm, turning around frantically as she started charging into the trees. Bill and Mike began to chase after her, and then Bill saw it too. 

“Fuck, he’s here!” Bill cried, and he and Mike ran faster. “Bev, please, w-wait!” 

Bev couldn’t hear a thing her friends were saying, everything in the world disappearing for the masked figure in front of her, who still stood as still as the tree he was hiding behind. He began to move his arm, pulling something out of the pocket of his black coat, but she didn’t look. She didn’t care. He could try to kill her if he wanted. 

“Beverly!” Mike yelled, “Stop, he has a-” 

“I don’t care what he has!” she yelled back, and she made the mistake of stopping to look back at them, because Bill caught up with her and tackled her down. “Stop!”

“Bev, pl-please,” he said, against her struggling. “He h-has a-” 

“I don’t care that he has a knife, so do I!” she said. 

“No, it’s n-not-” 

“I’m sorry, Bill,” she said, and kicked him only hard enough that he could release her, and she kept running. 

Bill was back on his feet in no time, and he was fast enough to be on the side of her. The killer’s hand rose, but she wasn’t looking. She was only looking at the mask. 

And then she heard it. And then she felt it. 

A gunshot rang out into the woods, banging into her eardrums. But she didn’t feel a bullet in her body. She felt hands against her ribs, roughly shoving her, and she felt her face digging into the grass as she fell over. 

She didn’t move for a second, looking down at her body and seeing no blood. 

But she crawled up, and she looked to the side and saw Bill. Bill, who’s hands had pushed her out of the way, and Bill who had a gaping bullet hole in his stomach. 

“Bill!” she cried, and scrambled to his side. Mike immediately shielded them, wrapping his arms around them with his back facing the killer, and he was looking at the blood and then the mud on Bev’s cheek and then he turned back and the killer wasn’t there. 

Bev leaned over Bill, taking off her sweater and holding it against his wound. She was sobbing again, and he smiled at her. 

“It’s o-okay Bev,” he told her, “I told you I’ve g-got you.” 

“Shut up!” she cried, “Why the fuck did you do that, Bill? Why would you do that?!” 

“H-He was going to sh-shoot you,” Bill said. 

“Then let him! Let him! I got Ben killed, Bill, and now you too!” she cried.

“You k-know I’d never l-let anyone hurt y-you,” Bill told her. 

“I hate you,” she sobbed, “I hate you, we can’t do this without you! We can’t!” 

“You can,” he smiled, “Y-You know now. You know w-who you’re fi-fighting against. Ri-Richie, and the ot-others, they could get h-him. You could get him.” 

“No,” she said, “No, we can’t, not without you. Please, Bill. Don’t leave. I love you.” 

“I love you,” he said, “And y-you, Mike. I love all of you. So y-you’ve got to go get him f-for me, al-alright?” 

She said nothing, only crying and holding the edges of his flannel tighter. 

Mike winced, silent tears falling down his face. Bill had just got that flannel for graduation. 

“You could d-do it, Bev,” he told her, “I kn-know you can. You just need a pl-plan, okay? D-Don’t just run for it.” 

“Okay,” she told him, holding onto him tighter, “I’ll try.” 

“You m-make the best pl-plans in the wo-world,” he said, “Don’t tell Richie. He th-thinks it’s him.” 

Bev couldn’t smile. She just stared at him, holding onto his collar. 

“Go g-get him, Bev,” he said, “I trust you.” 

She was going to answer him. She was going to say something, something to comfort him, maybe. But she didn’t know what to say. And just when she was going to, the look in his eyes fell blank. 

She fell over, laying over his chest, crying into the crook of his neck and still holding tightly onto the flannel. Mike laid on the other side of her, pulling her into his side, and he was crying too. 

Mike heard the front door slam, and he snapped up, laying over Bev. It was Richie, Eddie and Stan, running in their direction. 

“We heard a gunshot!” Eddie said, and they reached them, standing in a row before them. 

“Bill?” Stan asked, and he didn’t know who he was talking to. 

“I’m sorry guys,” Bev cried, “I’m so sorry, this is my fault, I’m so sorry.” 

Richie kneeled down, staring blankly at the wound in Bill’s stomach and then back up at Mike. 

“The killer has a gun. He was going to shoot Bev. Bill pushed her out of the way,” Mike explained. 

Richie fell back, still staring at the gaping hole. Eddie kneeled beside him, taking Bill’s hand. 

“He has a gun?” Richie asked, and he  _ knew  _ he had a gun. He’s sitting here, staring at his best friend’s gunshot wound. But he needed to hear it again. 

So Mike nodded. 

“He has a gun,” Richie’s voice shook, “He has a gun, I have a gun, I could’ve shot him! I could’ve done it, I could’ve went outside instead, he’d be dead and not Bill.  _ Not  _ Bill. I could’ve done it, I could’ve-” 

“Hey,” Eddie said, with tears on his own face. He grabbed Richie’s wrists and turned him to him. “Breathe with me, okay? Deep breaths. Just like you tell me.” 

“I could’ve killed him, Eddie,” he cried, “Bill’s dead now. I could have.” 

“And you will,” Eddie told him, “You couldn’t have known. There was no way you could’ve known. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t any of ours.”

Beverly shuddered, and she couldn’t find it in her to look up at them. She had done this. She didn’t listen, and she went to run off on her own. And now Richie was somehow twisting in into it being on him, and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. 

Richie’s breathing steadied, holding onto Eddie and making himself look into his eyes instead of at Bill’s bleeding corpse. 

“What are we going to do now?” Stan said, and his voice was so small that it was almost unrecognizable.

“We need a new form of strategy, now that we know he has a gun too,” Mike said, “I think we need to sit for a minute.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, not looking away from Richie. “We need a new plan. Let’s go sit by the fireplace.” 

“I’ll carry him,” Mike said. They all give a slight nod without words. Bev moves herself up, Bill’s blood now staining the bottom half of her blouse. Richie and Eddie had already started walking, Eddie holding Richie’s hand and stroking it with his thumb, still whispering words of comfort. Mike carried Bill’s body, following them. Stan walked over to Beverly.

“You would’ve done it for him, too,” he told her. 

“I would,” she responded. 

He forced a slight smile for her, and they walked together too. 

Mike walked to the room, laying Bill beside Ben. The group followed, looking to their fallen friends. 

“Bye Bill,” Richie told him, “It’s been real.” 

“Are you serious right now?” Stan asked him. 

“We all cope in different ways, Stanley,” he said, and he pressed his forehead against Bill’s, and then stood back. 

“Come on, guys,” Mike said, “We’ve got some major planning to do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments appreciated!


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, guys! Hope you enjoy this one!

The wind hissed as the night fell deeper, dead leaves ripping off their branches, crumbling to the ground. 

His gun was secured tightly into his coat, next to the knife. He slid a gloved hand into his pocket, pulling out the sharp weapon to admire it. It was still coated in Ben’s blood, some of the warm liquid now staining the inside of his pocket. He smirked under his mask and he traced his finger tip along the edge, closing his eyes and taking in its scent. He pulled up his mask slightly so his lips felt the breeze against them and kissed the blade, then touched it to his masked forehead, getting blood stained against the white material. He tucked it back into his coat and leaned against the tree. 

He saw them through the window of the house, sitting around a fire. He could’ve ended it. He could go in there right now and start shooting. He could shoot Richie first so he couldn’t shoot back and then shoot everyone else, one by one until they were scattered brains across the floor. But there was no fun in that. They deserved to have this thing spaced out, not knowing who was going to go next. They deserved to feel fear. 

The best part of it was that they would fall right into his traps. They were not as smart as they thought they were, and he didn’t have to try hard to get them where he wanted them. 

He smiled, and he wanted to cheer, because two of them were dead, and before the sun rose, each and every one of them would be a corpse rotting in the woods. They were going to be sorry for what they had done to him. 

But the plan would have to carry out slowly for maximum enjoyment, so he watched them, but he didn’t move. He was leaned against the tree and left his mask lifted, reaching in his other pocket for a cigarette. And he waited. 

From inside, they sat in a circle on the living room floor, and the fireplace was on. Stan had helped Beverly sit down, resting a hand kindly on her knee. Richie and Eddie were on the couch, and Eddie was stroking Richie’s hair. Beverly was shivering, and Mike didn’t know if it was from the cold or from her horror, but he reached for the blanket he was sitting on and tucked it around her shoulders anyway. 

Mike sat on the chair, looking at his friends intently. Not too long ago, they were sitting in this same place, laughing and smoking a joint, and he was looking at them too. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world because this was his family, and he loved them so much. Now, seven had become five, and he probably wouldn’t ever see them smile again. 

Bill had always been their unofficial leader, always guiding them when they were troubled and tackling every problem head on. All of them admired Bill, and all of them turned to him for help when they needed it. And now, he was gone, tucked into bed in his bloody graduation flannel, and their source of hope was gone. 

If Bill couldn’t be there for them, Mike knew he had to try for him. No one could ever take his place, but he could take care of them now. He was going to take care of them now. He was going to protect them with his life. 

“Guys,” his voice cracked, and they looked to him. No one had spoken since they had walked away from the room where their friends’ bodies laid, sitting in that living room in surrendered silence. He had never seen them look so tired, so absolutely and completely worn down. Destroyed, maybe. “What now?” 

“We can’t break up again,” Stan said, “We can’t when there’s only one gun. Whoever isn’t with Richie will end up dead.” 

They’re quiet again. 

“I wish it were that easy, Stan, but I don’t know if it is. He’s playing a game with us, and he isn’t going to make his next move if we don’t play the way he wants, and I think teams are the best way to do that,” Mike said. 

“No offense Mike, but what the fuck are you saying?” Eddie asked, “If he’s watching us, he’s going to obviously keep coming after the team that doesn’t have the gun. The knives aren’t going to be enough when he has a gun too.” 

“Some of us will have to stay with Richie, and some of us will have to stay with me,” Mike said. 

“Why you? You don’t have a gun,” Richie spoke.

“Because if someone else has to die, it’s going to be me,” he replied. 

“Why does someone else have to die? We’ll be fine if we don’t split up!” Stan exclaimed. 

“We can’t hide from this. As much as I wish we could hide or run away, we can’t. It’s us against him, and the only way to win is to play by his rules and then outsmart him,” Mike said. 

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Eddie asked. 

“The first thing we have to know is to never approach him head on,” Mike said. 

“Well, if I see him, I’m shooting without hesitation,” Richie said. 

“If we can, we need to find a way to find his identity. See if this is random or personal,” Mike continued. 

“I don’t see why this would be personal. What have we ever done to anybody?” Eddie asked. 

“You never know,” Mike responded. 

They kept talking, making a poor attempt at strategizing, but Bev had stopped listening, leaning into her blanket’s warmth. Her eyes drifted to the fireplace, watching the flames flicker. She didn’t question who was going to die next, for she already knew the answer. They weren’t going to all get out of this alive, at least, not all five of them. But it wasn’t going to be Mike. It had to be her. 

Bill had given his life for her’s. Maybe because he loved her, but maybe because he knew she had to do something important. She believed she had gotten them into this, even if it wasn’t her fault that there was a killer in the woods in the first place, and she was going to get them out. That bullet was meant for her, and she should be laying on that bed with a bloody chest instead. But she was sitting here breathing and feeling the warm touch from the fire against her nose, and that wasn’t fair at all. But she had to be the last one, and she had to assure that somehow. 

_ Find the killer’s identity.  _

She had to find a way to get outside alone. She knew that if she found the killer, he might just shoot her in the head and then proceed to shoot her friends. But she was good at planning, and with this killer, she felt it might be different. 

She gazed at the flicker, closing her eyes to take in the heat. The shine from the flames kissed each of the freckles on her cheeks, and she opened her eyes again. 

The skin on her face felt so warm, but every drop of blood that swam through her veins felt so incredibly cold. 

She watched as they discussed plans that ran in circles. They didn’t look like themselves; not in the slightest. But their hearts were there, and it reminded her that no matter how much this night would change them, they were still  _ them _ . Her boys. Her family. She couldn’t save all of them, but she could stop things here. Bill had died so she could do so; she just knew it. 

“Guys,” she said, her voice small and cracked, “I need a smoke. I’m going to the kitchen.” 

“I’m coming too,” Richie said. He moved his head away from Eddie’s chest, giving him a poor attempt at a smile and squeezing his knee before getting off the couch to follow her. 

It was going to hurt Richie to lose her; she knew that. But she had to do absolutely anything it took to make sure he didn’t lose Eddie. 

They entered the kitchen, standing against the counter. The bottle of strawberry soda that Ben had drank from still sat beside them. 

She pulled out a cigarette and lit it, handing one to Richie. They didn’t say anything. 

“Hey,” Richie told her. 

“Hey,” she replied. 

“That blanket warm enough for you?” he asked. 

“Sure. Want it?” she said. 

“No. It matches the slippers you brought. The pattern suits you,” he said. 

She sighed, because for a moment there, she could almost lie to herself that things were normal. That they were all here on the vacation they always planned, and her friends and boyfriend were sitting in the other room, all breathing and unharmed, chatting while she and Richie stood in the kitchen for a smoke. She could imagine Stan and Bill arguing over the quality of the last movie they saw while Mike giggled and kicked his legs over Stan’s, and Ben was sitting there staring at her through the hall with fondness in his eyes. And Eddie would be sitting next to him, gazing at Richie the same way, but turning away quickly when her eyes wandered to him and then joining whatever debate Stan and Bill were going at. And Richie wouldn’t even realize, but she would, so she’d look at him and smile. 

But that was a lie, a reality she’d never see again. Sure, she and Richie were in the other room having a smoke, but neither of them muster up a smile and instead of arguing with Bill, Stan was sitting against the couch with his knees pulled under his chin staring at the wall with an empty look, and Mike was planning to kill someone instead of giggling, and Eddie was staring but only to make sure Richie was still alive. And he didn’t bother looking away when she saw him. 

“You know,” Richie said, snapping her out of her thoughts. She turned to look at his shirt, too afraid that if she looked him in the eyes she’d break down again. “It wasn’t your fault. Either of them.” 

She slowly shook her head, taking a puff of her cigarette. “Rich, I wish that were true.” 

“You didn’t know, Bevvie,” she felt him looking at her but she couldn’t look back. “You couldn’t know there was a killer in the woods, you couldn’t know Ben would be in danger. And Bill? That was just a super Bill thing to do. He’d do it for any of us. You would too, right?” 

“Right,” she said, “But it didn’t have to happen. I ran. I didn’t think. I didn’t listen. And now he’s dead for it.” 

“That wasn’t your fault,” he tried to hold her hand, and she wanted to push it away but she held it anyway. “He took the love of your life from you. If he took Eddie, fuck, I’d probably do the same.” 

She froze, stopped breathing for a second, and she knew he felt it because his hand tensed. So she squeezed it, took a deep breath, and looked at him. 

Richie looked like himself, but he didn’t. She saw her best friend, but she couldn’t see the guy that wore cookie monster pajamas every day and downed Lucky Charms from the box. He was there, but he wasn’t. And she couldn’t help but feel responsible for that. But one day, he’d be okay. Him and Eddie and the others would be safe and far away from here, and he might be himself again. And she’d die for that possibility. 

She pulled her hand away from his, placing it on his cheek. “Richie, you have to listen to me, okay?” 

He hesitantly nodded. 

“Remember what we talked about, today at the lake? We made a promise to each other,” she started. 

“Yes,” he answered. 

“It’s too late for me, Rich. Ben is gone. I didn’t tell him fast enough and I lost my chance forever. But it isn’t too late for you. You still have Eddie, and you two are going to make it out of here okay. I just know it. But people are dying, Ben is dead, and there is no such thing as forever. So you have to tell him.” 

“Tell him now?” he asked her, “I don’t know, confessing my love while there’s a guy out here killing our friends doesn’t feel appropriate, Bev.”

“Richie,” tears streamed down her face, “I lost my chance because I waited. Things are over for me. But you and him have so much ahead for you. Things aren’t over yet. But I can’t promise you that it’ll stay that way, and I can promise you that you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you lose your chance because you waited. Tell him. As soon as you can. Tell him.”

He moved up his hand to wipe a tear off her cheek. “Okay. Okay.” 

“You guys are going to go home, and it’ll be hard at first but you’ll be okay. Because Eddie is obviously in love with you too, so you’re going to get together and then in a few years have an apartment with two cats. And you’ll have drawings of you guys as stick figures colored in crayon framed along the walls. You’ll be happy,” she said. 

“Eds is allergic to cats,” he said. 

“Shut up. You’re ruining it. He can take allergy pills every day,” she moved her hand from his cheek and leaned back on the counter.

“Sounds good to me. But I think we should get a lizard too,” he said. 

“A bearded dragon,” she offered. 

“For sure a bearded dragon,” he replied. 

“Don’t forget to wear flowers in your hair when you get married. I taught Eddie how to make crowns once,” she said. 

“You can make them for us, and get us ties that match them. We both know I can’t dress for shit, Bev, I’m going to need you for this one,” he told her. 

Tears welled in her eyes. She felt a bit guilty. But things would be better this way. She had to go for him to be able to make it out of here. 

She couldn’t find it in her to lie to him. But she couldn’t tell him the truth either. 

“You’re admitting to your awful fashion sense? I thought I’d never see the day,” she said instead. 

“Don’t get too excited, I’m not changing it anytime soon. But maybe I’ll have to make an exception for my wedding day,” he said. 

“You’ll look great, Rich,” she told him, “Even if you wear some hideous suit.” 

“If I’m wearing a hideous suit, so are you, my best man,” he said. 

She didn’t answer. Instead, she burned out her cigarette and turned to him, wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back, and they just stood like that for a while. 

In the other room, Stan held his knees close, his teeth grinding harshly against each other. Mike seemed to be talking to himself, and Eddie was staring at the kitchen. They couldn’t hear what Bev and Richie were talking about, but by the looks of it, it was something intense. Stan found it to be impolite to look. Eddie didn’t care. 

“Mike,” Stan said, and Mike snapped back up at him. “Are we going back out there?”

“We’ll have to eventually, Stan,” he said, “We can’t hide from him. He’s out there waiting for us.”

“When?” Stan asked. 

“When everybody’s ready. Especially Bev,” Mike said. 

“You guys actually feel ready about these things?” Stan asked. 

“Stan, none of us are ‘ready’ to kill someone. But I’m not ready to die either, so we’ve got choices to make, don’t we?” Eddie said. 

“Please, guys, don’t get hostile. The last thing we need right now is to be on bad terms with each other,” Mike said. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “I’m sorry, Stan.”

Stan nodded, and Eddie turned back to the kitchen. If this was a normal night, Stan would tease him for staring so much. But he didn’t think Eddie was in the mood for teasing. 

“When they come back, I’ll ask Bev if she feels ready to go out there again,” Mike said. 

“Maybe I could stay with her here instead,” Stan suggested. 

“Stanley, I’m sorry, but we all have to go. No more hiding. This is only going to get worse for us if we don’t play ‘fair,” Mike sighed. 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “And if one of us is at risk of dying, we all should be. I’d never keep myself safe so everyone else can go out and possibly die. You wouldn’t either, right Stan?” 

“I-” 

“How could you do that?” Eddie turned to him, “After all we’ve been through together, you’d spare yourself instead of fighting with the rest of us?” 

“Eddie, he didn’t even answer,” Mike sighed. 

“I knew what he was going to say,” Eddie said, and his voice wavered. “I knew what he was going to say, because he’s scared. But that isn’t fair because I’m scared too. I’m so scared, but I have to fight anyway. I have to. I’d kill him, but I’m so scared, Mike.” 

Tears ran down Eddie’s cheeks, and he began to shake. Mike moved over and wrapped an arm around his shoulders while Stan sat frozen in place. 

“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” Eddie cried, “I don’t want to lose him.” 

“I know, Eddie,” Mike comforted, “You won’t. I’ll protect you.” 

“No, don’t protect me,” Eddie told him, “I can go. Please keep everyone else safe.” 

“We all feel like that right now. We’d all die to protect each other,” Mike said. 

“Not all of us,” Eddie scoffed, “I can’t believe you, Stan. I can’t believe you would do this to us.” 

Stan closed his eyes and turned his head to his lap. He was a bad friend, and he didn’t expect Eddie to forgive him. But he didn’t have any words to say. 

“Eddie, please, it’s not Stan’s fault,” Mike said. 

“He’s trying to hide while the rest of us go out and get killed!” Eddie exclaimed, “And he can’t even say anything about it.” 

“I’m sorry, Eddie, okay?” Stan looked up, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear to God I didn’t. I know you guys deserve a better friend, but I’m trying my best, okay? I’d never spare myself at your expense. Never, okay? I’ll do better, I promise I’ll do better. But please never think I love myself more, because I’ve never loved myself but I love all of you and I don’t know yet if I could kill for you but I’d die for you in a heartbeat.” 

Eddie stared at him, and the aggression in his eyes melted to defeat, and Stan could have cried over how small he looked. Eddie crawled down from the couch and to Stan, throwing his arms over Stan’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Stan, I’m so sorry,” Eddie shuddered, “I know you wouldn’t do that to me. I’m just scared. I’m so scared, guys! I don’t want anyone to die, I don’t want to die.” 

Eddie tucked his face into Stan’s shoulder and sobbed, but not loud enough for Richie and Bev to hear him. Stan hugged him in return, rubbing a hand up his back. Mike moved over to them and wrapped his arms around the two of them, and they sat like that for a while, just like Richie and Bev in the other room. 

After a few minutes, Eddie sat up, wiping the tears off his face. “Thanks, guys.” 

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” Stan said. 

“Don’t be,” Eddie told him, “Remember what Richie told you. You got this.” 

“We got this,” Mike said, “We’re going to get rid of him and get out of here, okay?”

“Okay,” Stan and Eddie said at once. 

In the kitchen, Bev pulled away from Richie, clenching her fists together and taking a deep breath.

“You ready to get back to the others?” Richie asked her.

“I need to wash my face in the bathroom,” she said, “I still have mud on my face and I need the cold water.” 

“You can’t be alone,” he said. 

“Richie, I need a second to myself. Just a second. It’ll be fine, I’ll go in the bathroom and you can wait at the door the whole time.I won’t lock it, you could just come in if anything happens,” she assured him. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking at her with nervousness. 

“I’m sure,” she said, “It’ll be okay.” 

She meant that in more ways than one. 

“Alright,” he sighed, “Come on, let’s get you over there.” 

They walked down the hall to the bathroom, and Bev focused on the red of her shoes as her eyes traced her footsteps. Ben had gotten her those shoes for her birthday. 

They reached their destination and Bev turned the doorknob, pausing halfway. She pushed it slightly open and stepped inside, then stopped to turn to Richie. 

“I’ll be right here waiting, okay?” he told her. 

She didn’t reply. She kept looking at him, a weak smile on her face. 

“I love you, Richie. You’re the best of best friends I could’ve ever asked for and I’m so proud of you.”

“Bev, are you okay? You sure you don’t want me to come in there with you?” he asked. 

“No, I’m okay. I just wanted to tell you that,” she said. 

“Love you too, Bevvie,” he replied, “I’ll be staying right here.” 

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she told him. 

“It will,” he made himself smile, and she slowly closed the door. Once it clicked, she rested her back against it, sliding to the floor. She ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath, and then caught sight of the window. 

It was only a screen, simple to push down without making noise. 

She nodded to herself and slowly stood up. 

She walked to the sink, turning on the water. She did cup the liquid in her palms and splash it against her face, rubbing off the remains of mud and dirt. She rinsed it thoroughly and then dried it off with the towel hanging beside her, but left the sink running. 

Richie had to think she was still washing. 

Instead, she stepped away from the faucet, heading for the window. Carefully, she removed the screen, pushing it over to the side. She swung her leg out of the windowsill and then her whole body, and then she was outside. 

She looked around, careful to make sure none of the other windows could see her. But she was in the back of the house, and there was no way her friends could notice her there. 

So she walked as quietly as she could, her shoes barely pushing into the dirt. She walked, looking at every corner, and then, there he was. 

He wasn’t hiding in a corner, or behind a tree. He was standing in the open, near the edge of the house, facing her from a few feet away. His arms rested at his sides, no weapons in his hands. 

They stare at each other for a few moments, neither of them daring to move. Then, Beverly took a step closer. 

“You’re not going to shoot me, are you?” she asked. 

The killer didn’t answer, but moved a few steps closer to her. 

“I know you’re not going to shoot me. Not yet. And I’m not here to kill you. This time. I just want to talk. Can we do that?” she said. 

The killer took a step closer. 

Beverly sighed and then walked up to him, stopping only when she stood directly in front of him. 

The killer titled his head, but didn’t move or speak. 

“Talk. I know you can,” she said. 

“What is there to talk about, missy?” the killer spoke. 

She knew that voice, she knew it from  _ somewhere _ . But she couldn’t pinpoint where. 

“I want to know why you’re doing this. What do you want from us?” she asked. 

“I shouldn’t have to answer that for you,” he responded. 

“I don’t understand,” she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, “I shouldn’t have even expected that of you. Of course, you forgot me.” 

“Refresh my memory?” she asked. 

“Ask Richie, I’m sure he remembers,” the killer scoffed, “I know he does.” 

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know who you are or what you want from us, but I’m here to make a deal.” 

“A deal? What the fuck would you have to offer me?” he laughed. 

“Kill me,” she said. 

“What? In exchange for their lives or something?” he asked, a hand resting in his coat pocket. 

“I want you dead. I really fucking want you dead. But not as much as I want them alive. And they’re going to kill you. They’re ready to do it, and it’s all of them against one of you. You’ll end up dead. But now, you have the chance to get out of here, and they’ll never know it was you. You can kill me now, in exchange. And then, you run. You run and you’ll survive and no one will ever know your identity. But they live,” she said.

“How quaint,” he said, “Awfully touched that you thought of me. But you should’ve thought of me before this, Bev. It’s too late now.” 

“Please, whoever you are, we never meant to hurt you,” she pleaded, “Just run. You don’t want to be dead, do you?” 

“Actually, babe, you’re right…” he tapped his finger on his chin. “I’ll split. Killing three is better than none. My gun only has one other bullet in it anyway.” 

“You’ll kill me and leave?” she asked. 

“Do you think I will?” he smirked under his mask.

“I-

Before she could respond, he had swiped the knife from his pocket in one swift movement, sliding it through her throat. She fell over, weakly reaching for her neck, blood rapidly pouring from the gaping slice in her throat and pouring through her fingers, drenching her blouse. 

“I don’t know about the last part, babe,” he said, “But I had to take you up on the first part of your offer. Did you actually think I’d agree to that? I really did think you were smarter than that, Bev.” 

She continued to choke on her blood, her skin starting to pale. 

“What is it, cat got your tongue? Oh, that’s right! Silly me. Well, I got to tell you Bev, I always did admire you. You were strong and beautiful, and it’s a shame things had to end this way. But you’re still one of  _ them _ . And if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave you to deal with your little predicament here and go kill your friends. They’re trying to kill me? Well, I’ll take my chances.” 

He tucked the bloody knife back into his coat, starting to walk back to where he came from. 

“Goodnight, Bev,” he said, “Don’t have too much fun there, now.”

He disappeared. 

Bev kept her shaking fingers around her slit throat, the world beginning to grow blurrier. She looked up to the sky, staring at the sea of stars as they slowly faded away. 

She should’ve known she would have failed. This killer does not fear his own life. But at least she could die knowing that she tried. 

And even if he was still after them, he had made the wrong decision. They were going to get him, and that she was sure of. Richie and Eddie will get their happy ending, and in another life, she and Ben would too. Maybe in the next one. 

The stars faded to black. 

Richie began to grow worried at the door as the time passed, because he hadn’t heard a single sound other than the water running. She couldn’t be washing her face that long. 

“Bev? You okay?” he asked, giving a slight knock on the door. 

No answer.

“Beverly?” 

No answer. 

“I’m gonna come in, okay?” 

No answer. 

He turned the doorknob and stepped inside. The water was running, but Beverly was nowhere in sight.   
“Bev!” he panicked, “Bev, where are you?” 

He noticed the open window. 

“Fuck!” he ran to the window, “Bev, why the fuck did you do that?” 

He squeezed through the windowsill, falling over onto the dirt. He quickly stood up, urgently looking in all directions. “Bev! Beverly! Where are you?” 

He noticed something laying on the dirt. 

“No,” he mumbled, and he ran towards it. “No, no, no.” 

But when he slid to the ground, his fears were confirmed. What was once his best friend was now a corpse in the dirt, her body soaked in blood that was pouring from her ripped-open neck. 

He couldn’t understand why she had gone outside. How this had happened. But he did notice a note tucked into her pocket, the edges of the paper sprinkled with blood. 

“She died alone,” it read, “Soon, you will too, Richie.” 

It was personal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think will happen now? Comments appreciated!


	4. four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for not updated for three weeks. Some very horrible stuff happened in my personal life and I was unable to write/update. But here's chapter four, and I'm hoping to have the next one up next week too. Thank you for your patience.

_ It was personal.  _

Richie was on his knees beside her body, holding the now crumbled note in his palm. He moved his focus back and forth between the distorted red writing and what was once Beverly, and then he looked at her one second too long. He crumbled the note and pushed it into his pocket, leaning closely over her. 

He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand trembling. He carefully picked her up, her blood spilling onto his own shirt, and held her to his chest, resting his chin over the top of her head. 

He squeezed her a bit, slightly rocking back and forth, tears streaming down his face. He knew he was supposed to be sobbing right now, supposed to be running inside in hysterics and telling his remaining friends what had happened, but for the first time in his life he felt nothing but numb. He couldn’t move; could barely breathe. He was frozen in time, and the only thing he could do was hold her and stay. 

He couldn’t understand why she had done what she had done, but he knew that she knew what she was doing. He knew this was planned. She had snuck out and gotten herself killed on purpose. But why? Was it suicide? Was it part of a deeper plan that went wrong, or maybe even went  _ right  _ from her perspective? 

He didn’t know. One thing he did know for sure was that the killer was watching him right now, for although he didn’t know where he was, he could feel the gaze of his eyes burning on him. He didn’t care. He was alone and vulnerable; it was the perfect time to be killed. But there he was, sitting in a demented sort of peace. The killer was after them for a specific reason, one he didn’t yet know, and this was all part of a plan. The killer didn’t want him dead just yet, but he would soon. 

He almost considered letting him. Sitting right here cradling his best friend’s body until the killer had decided that he was tired of waiting. But then he looked down at Bev’s face, and he knew there was something he had to do first.    
Bev knew where her fate would fall, but she had so much confidence in Richie and Eddie. She knew that they would have their happy ending. And even if he felt broken and defeated, a small part of him believed in that too. He could not just sit around and get himself killed when he still had Eddie. 

He had made a promise. 

“C’mon, Bev,” his voice sounded so far away, “You can rest.” 

He picked her up and went back in through the window, blood dripping down into a trail and all over the bathroom floor. He didn’t want to come back in through the front. The others should not see another best friend dead if they didn’t have to. 

Quietly, he moved her to the room where his other friends rested, a bed where there was just room for one more. He tucked her in, giving her a weak smile and kissing the top of her hand before he left her. 

He walked back from the room, seeing where Eddie, Stan and Mike sat beside each other in front of the fireplace, and his tears spilled faster. Finally, as he entered the hall, Eddie noticed him. 

“Richie!” Eddie panicked, seeing the blood coating his shirt and collar and running to him, “What happened to you?! Where are you hurt?” 

“I’m not hurt, Eds,” he said softly. But he couldn’t say that he was okay. 

“Why do you have blood on you?” Eddie asked, and his face began to pale as he noticed that Bev wasn’t there. 

“Bev wanted to wash her face. She told me that,” his teeth began to chatter, “She said she would be safe. She swore.” 

“Richie, what happened to Bev?” Stan asked. 

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I was waiting outside the door, she told me she was going to wash her face,” his voice crumbled, and he didn’t feel so numb anymore. He was starting to crack. 

“Richie, did he get to her?” Mike asked, and then he cursed himself. Obviously he had, because now Richie was covered in someone else’s blood and she wasn’t there. But he found himself asking anyway. He needed to hear the words. 

“She snuck out.I don’t know why, but she snuck out. And I was waiting for her but then she didn’t come out for a long time so I went in and the window was open and she wasn’t there so I crawled out and walked a little and then I found her and she was laying there and-” 

“Rich, slow down,” Eddie comforted, “Take your time.” 

“And she was dead,” he said, “And I found this.” 

He pulled the note out of his pocket, straightening it out the best he could. 

“Oh my God,” Stan said, the letters bolding in his mind. 

This wasn’t random. The killer knew them. 

The burning in his stomach escalated, and he felt himself fall over a little bit, and then he was leaned over the carpet on one knee, vomit spilling out of him. 

Mike leaned over too, rubbing just below his shoulder. When he was done, he fell back, leaning onto Mike. 

“We’re going to move now,” Richie said, “I don’t know what this guy’s plan is, but I’m putting a stop to it right now. If Bev could find him, so could I.” 

“I can’t go,” Stan said. 

“What do you mean you can’t go? Do you not see what happened every time someone was alone? He’ll come kill you, Stan!” Eddie exclaimed. 

“I can’t-” Stan started to repeat, but then he was throwing up again. 

“You’re alright, Stan,” Mike consoled, “I’ve got you.” 

“You see?” Stan said, wiping his mouth before turning back to them. “I can’t go, or we’re all going to get killed. I’ll keep everyone back because I’ll be too scared, and it’ll fuck everything up. You have to go without me.” 

“Hell no am I leaving anyone alone again!” Richie said, “You can’t expect me to do that.” 

“I’ll stay with him,” Mike said, “I’ll keep us safe. You guys won’t have to worry about us.” 

“I don’t know,” Richie said, “You guys don’t have a gun. Last time we split up, someone died.” 

“Did he shoot Bev?” Mike asked. 

“N-No. He slit her throat,” Richie shuddered. 

“So he stabbed Ben, shot Bill and slit Bev’s throat. Looks like he likes to get creative. I don’t think he’ll shoot again, if he’s already done that. I think he wants to try out all of his kills a different way, and trust me when I say me and a knife can handle a guy not using a gun,” Mike explained. 

“Rich,” Eddie said, “I don’t want to leave them alone either, but they’re right. If you and me go out there, we could get the job done quickly. I think Mike could handle the guy okay.” 

Stan sighed in embarrassment. 

Richie hesitated, scrunching his eyes closed. He took a deep breath and opened them, seeing Stan staring at the floor in shame. He had to admit that they were right. If Stan was not willing to fight, it may cost another life. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“I’ll stay right here with him, we’ll be alright,” Mike assured. 

“You promise me?” Richie asked him. 

“Promise,” Mike replied. 

Richie nodded, pulling Mike into a hug. Mike embraced him tightly, digging his face into the crook of his neck. Richie had gotten so tall this year. 

“You got this guys,” Mike told them, “I know you got this.” 

Eddie gave them a smile, placing a hand on Richie’s shoulder to signal him to come. Stan opened his mouth to say something, but he choked on his words, feeling like nothing he could say could excuse his cowardice. He wanted to make it up somehow, but he couldn’t figure out how just yet. 

Richie and Eddie walked down the hall, toward the side door that would lead outside. Richie felt heavy with every footstep, feeling nearly impossible to move. Reality felt altered, his surroundings a heavy haze, and he found himself stopping against the wall, trying to gain control of what was real and feel his reality again. He slid down to the floor, his hands over his face. 

“Richie?” Eddie asked, quickly coming towards him. “C’mon, Rich, we gotta go.” 

“Can I just have a minute?” Richie asked, lifting his face from his hands to look at Eddie. Reality was still altered, but for the second that he looked into Eddie’s eyes, there was peace. There was warmth; there was safety. “I just want to look at you for a little while.” 

Eddie blushed a little, his eyes softening, and he slid down to sit facing him. “Shut up.” 

“No, really,” Richie said, shakily reaching out his hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, “Has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” 

Eddie shook his head but couldn’t hide his smile, and hesitantly he raised his arm to hold Richie’s hand against his cheek, his other hand resting on Richie’s knee. They sat like that for a few moments, gazing at each other. Things started to get a bit more steady, because the longer he looked at Eddie, the more he could pretend he was back home. 

He had spent a lot of his time, over the years, looking at Eddie. He looked at him and felt like he could do anything in the world. And he had been so afraid, and so empty, but he was looking at him and he knew he could do it. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that?” he told him. 

“I know that,” Eddie replied, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you either.” 

“I’d do anything to make sure he can’t hurt you,” Richie continued, “I don’t think I could survive losing you.” 

“You won’t lose me, Rich,” he reassured him, “Because you’re going to kick his ass and we’re getting the hell out of here. I know you will.” 

“I was so excited to plan this trip,” Richie said, “Everyday I counted down to the day it would get closer. It was my reason to get up in the morning; besides going to school and seeing you. But I was counting down to the day I got my friends killed because I’m the one with the gun and I still couldn’t protect them. I don’t know how you can even look at me after that.” 

“You can’t blame yourself, Richie,” Eddie said, his fingers under Richie’s chin to tilt him up slightly to look at him. “None of this is your fault, and I know you’d do anything for us in a heartbeat. None of this is your fault. Do you understand me?” 

“But I could’ve tried harder,” Richie said. 

“You did everything you could to protect them. The only person we have to blame is the person who is doing this. That’s the  _ only  _ person we have to blame. And now, we’re out here to find him, and you’re going to shoot him and he’ll be gone. You’re going to save us.” 

“You really think that?” Richie asked. 

“Of course I do,” Eddie said, “I would never doubt you Rich.” 

Richie closed his eyes for a second, seeing Beverly’s face. She would tell him it was time. She would tell him to do it now before something might happen and it’d be too late. 

“Eds, can I tell you something?” he asked. 

“You could tell me anything in the world,” Eddie replied. 

“I really like looking at you.” 

Eddie chuckled a bit. “Okay, Rich.” 

“ _ No,  _ I mean I really like looking at you. I look at you the way I’m not supposed to look at my best friend. I look at you and everything feels fuzzy, but a comforting kind of fuzzy. You make me feel safe. I look at you, and I want to take you and hold you and never let go. I look at you and I’m home.” 

Eddie nodded. 

“Me and Beverly had this deal. She was going to tell Ben she wanted to take the next step with him, and I was supposed to tell you. I was supposed to tell you that I want to be more than friends, and I don’t expect you to feel the same but I’d do absolutely anything in the world to keep you happy. And I always dreamed of the day I’d tell you how much I want to be with you, if I ever got the courage to do it, but now we’re dying and I don’t know if we’ll see tomorrow and I can’t die without you knowing how I felt. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. It wasn’t supposed to be in sitting in the hall with a gun in my hand and my friends’ blood on my shirt, but this is what we’ve got. So I have to tell you that you’re my favorite person in the world, and I could never stop wanting you.”

Eddie was silent, his eyes moving to the wall a little, his eyebrows scrunched in thought. 

Richie began to grow worried. “I understand if you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped any boundaries-” 

Eddie kissed him. It was innocent and brief, just a peck on the lips. And then they were staring at each other, wide eyed and cheeks red, and Eddie took a breath before he kissed him again, his hand on the back of his neck. It was deeper this time, more than a peck, and it was warm. It was safe. They were safe; just for the moment. 

Stan still sat by the fireplace, digging his face into his knees. He felt deeply ashamed, and he didn’t know how he was ever going to live with himself if Mike gets hurt for staying with him. 

“You should go find them, Mike,” he said, “I’m the one being a coward. I should have to be alone.” 

“I’d never leave you alone, Stan,” Mike said, resting his head on Stan’s shoulder, “And you’re not a coward, okay?” 

“I am a fucking coward,” Stan scoffed. “I’m the only one too scared to fight. My fear puts your lives at risk.” 

“None of us blame you,” Mike told him, “We could never be mad at you. We understand.” 

“But you shouldn’t have to stay here to protect me. That isn’t fair,” Stan said. 

“I’d always protect you,” Mike told him, “Always. You can’t stop me from protecting you.” 

Stan sighed. He was afraid; he knew that. But he  _ loved  _ his friends, and he knew he needed to help somehow. Maybe he couldn’t kill, but he could at least try to help. 

“We should do something,” he said. “We need to help them somehow.” 

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Mike told him. 

“Maybe we could go in the backyard,” Stan said, “We could look for him there. If we see him, we could yell for Richie and warn them.” 

“Stan, that would put you in the crossfire. You’d be at risk for him to catch you. Are you sure you want to do that?” Mike asked. 

Stan took a moment to remember what Richie told him earlier that night. They believed in him. They knew he could be brave. He had to try.

“Yes,” he said. “We have to help them. Let’s go.” 

“Okay,” Mike said, “Bring your bat.” 

Stan went to retrieve the bat, and as he wrapped his fingers around it, he felt a second of confidence. He could do this. He just needed to tell himself that. 

They walked to the back, Mike holding his knife and Stan holding his bat. Stan almost smiled. He was absolutely terrified, but this was his chance to be better. This was his chance to make up for it. 

“I’m so proud of you, Stan,” Mike offered him a smile of encouragement, “Everyone will be.” 

“You shouldn’t be,” Stan said, “I’m doing what everyone else is doing, just taking longer.” 

“We all have different limits and tolerances,” Mike said, “No one is judging you for having more limits than the others. We all move at our own pace. And moving out of your comfort zone to protect your friends is something to be proud of.” 

“I guess,” Stan said, “I just don’t want to be the thing that holds everybody down.” 

They stood on both sides of the fence, their backs turned to the open woods. 

“I’ve always believed in you,” Mike said, “You don’t know it, but you’re so important and I know you’re going to play a part in fixing this.”

“I don’t know about that,” Stan said.

“No, I know it,” Mike said, “You’re going to do something important.” 

“Perhaps it is a possibility,” Stan said. 

“Before all of this went down, when we were still all having fun together, I was feeling so happy with all of you. And I didn’t get to tell the others this, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much, all of you, and I will always regret not telling everyone else. But I get to tell you, Stan. I love you,” Mike told him. 

Stan turned his head to him, but neither of them could see what was coming up behind them. “I love you too Mik-” 

A fist collided to the back of Stan’s head, the force enough to knock him out cold. He collapsed to the floor, his nose crashing against the dirt and starting to bleed. 

“Stan!” Mike exclaimed, and when he turned around, the killer was already trying to put his hands around his neck. Mike swooped the knife and sliced it against the killer’s arm, leaving a large, slightly deep cut along his arm. The killer stumbled back and yelped in pain, holding onto his arm. 

Mike looked at him in pride, cheering himself for hurting the killer. He let the knife slide to the floor, grabbing ahold of Stan’s bat instead. “Bye, motherfucker!”

But just as Mike started his swing, the killer’s good arm flung out from his jacket, holding onto his gun, and he shot. Mike’s hand that was holding the bat had a gaping hole. 

Mike screamed, falling to the floor and gripping his wrist, the blood seeping everywhere. The killer jumped on top of him, straddling him, and used Mike’s knife to slice at his fingers. 

“You really thought you had a chance, huh?” the killer told him, and then his hands were around Mike’s neck, his grip growing progressively tighter. Mike gasped for air, but the pain in his hand prevented him from fighting back. Everything grew more blurry as he was strangled, and then he couldn’t see anymore. 

The last thing he saw was Stan’s unconscious form, silently praying that he’d get out of this alive. 

At least he told him he loved him. 

“Bye, motherfucker,” the killer smirked, and then he drained Mike’s life away. 

The killer let go of his bruised neck, letting his head fall against the floor. He stood up and admired his work, trying to ignore the pain in his arm. He turned to Stan, laying unconscious with blood pouring out of his nose. He kicked him in the ribs, but then walked away. He didn’t want to kill him just yet. He needed to wake up and see what happened to Mike. Because of him. 

Not to mention he had bigger fish to fry. So he held his gun close, and silently walked to the hall where Richie and Eddie were. It was time for his plan to commence. 

From inside, Richie and Eddie were lost in their own world, almost forgetting the nightmare they were living in. They knew they shouldn’t be making out when they had a killer to catch, but there was no way to know if they’d ever get the chance again. So Eddie was still on Richie’s lap, their hands tangled in each other’s hair. 

They could stay like that forever. But then, they heard a bang. 

Eddie got startled, pulling away. “You hear that?” 

“Yeah,” Richie said, “We need to go investigate.” 

“We’ll have time for this later,” Eddie smiled, “We’ll go kill him, and then we can go home and make out all we want.” 

“God, Eds, I can’t believe you’re real,” Richie said, “Now let’s go fuck that fucker up.” 

Eddie moved off of him and stood up, pulling him up with him. Richie gripped his gun tightly in one hand and held Eddie’s hand in the other, and they walked towards the source of the noise. 

And then, they saw it. Another gun sitting in the middle of the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” Richie said, and hesitantly walked towards it. 

“Wait!” Eddie paused, “Don’t walk towards it. It might be a trap.” 

“It might be something we have to do,” Richie told him, “This guy is playing a game with us. We have to go see what the hell is up with that and see what step we have to take next.” 

“Okay,” Eddie sighed, and they walked to the end of the hall, seeing no one in sight. Only a gun, just laying there for them. 

“I think I might know what’s going on,” Richie said, picking up the gun. “It makes no sense for him to arm more of us, but I think this is a game for him. Like a gun fight. He wants both me and you to be on his level. What a fucking idiot.”

“So he wants me to have this?” Eddie asked. “That’s weird.” 

“Weird,” Richie said, “But it’s to our advantage. He’s looking for a fight rather than mindless killing right now, and since it’s personal, it’s probably specific to be against me and you. You have to take the gun.” 

“Alright,” Eddie said, taking it. “I have an idea, but we’ll have to split up, okay?” 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Richie said. 

“I know, I don’t want to leave you either. But if both of us are armed, we’re going to cover more ground if I check out the front and you stay in the house. We know he’s watching us right now, but he can’t watch both of us at the same time. I’ll look for him outside, and you stay here so you could shoot him if he comes after you,” Eddie explained. 

“But how could I protect you that way?” Richie asked. 

“Don’t worry about me, Richie. I can protect myself. I’m armed, so I’ll be alright. I promise. Okay? Can you trust me?” 

“I trust you,” Richie told him. 

“Okay, then I’m going. We’ll be back together in no time. I promise,” Eddie said. 

Richie kissed him, hugging him tightly. Eddie gave him one more kiss before he pulled away. 

“If I come back in, I’ll come in through the front door. If this side door opened, it’s him,” Eddie told him. 

“Got it,” Richie said. 

Eddie smiled at him and went outside. 

He took a deep breath, listening to the leaves crumble underneath his feet as he emerged into the woods. It was dark outside, but he was lucky enough to have good vision. He held the gun tightly, turning off the safety. He was prepared to shoot. 

But all he saw were the shadows of the trees, the only sound being the branches swayed by the breeze. 

But he could sense him. He was out here somewhere; he knew that. He could feel his presence. So he kept looking. 

And then he saw it. The figure of a masked man standing in the woods. Standing parallel to him. 

The man who had taken his friends from him. 

Without even thinking about it, he pulled the trigger. 

But no bullet came out. 

“It isn’t loaded,” Eddie whispered to himself, “Fuck, it isn’t loaded!” 

His breathing hitched, fear piercing through his body. But the killer wasn’t shooting him; wasn’t even moving closer. Instead, his body turned, but his face still locked on Eddie, and he raised his hand in the direction of the side door where Richie was waiting, his fingers doing the signal of a gun. 

“No,” Eddie said, “No! You’re not going to get him!” 

The gun was useless. Eddie couldn’t shoot him. But he could get there in time and block Richie. He could still save him. The killer started walking towards the side door, and Eddie began to run. 

From inside, Richie was staring outside the window at the woods. He saw the killer standing there, a smile growing on his face. This was his time. He was going to get him.

As soon as he was sure the killer was coming toward him, he turned away from the window, no longer seeing what was outside, or who was coming. He had to stand in front of the door so he could shoot. 

He felt ecstatic that he was going to end it; that he was going to protect Eddie. But he was also so afraid. He was about to shoot someone, kill someone, end someone’s life. He didn’t know if he’d ever come back from that; the sound of the gunshot and the sight of a person bleeding out because of him. Of course, he wanted this. This person had murdered his best friends. But he still couldn’t help but feel scared. 

So he pulled the safety off, held up the gun with his finger resting on the trigger, and he closed his eyes. As soon as he heard the door open, he was going to shoot. It was going to be over. 

And then the door opened. So he shot. . 

After the gunshot, his eyes were still closed, and he was scared to open them, afraid to see it. But he had to. He had to know he had done it. 

But then he heard it. 

“Richie?” 

_ No.  _

He opened his eyes instantly, and then dropped the gun to the floor. 

Because the killer wasn’t standing in front of him. In front of him, standing with a bullet wound in his stomach, was Eddie. 

He had shot Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated!


	5. five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the finale!

He had shot Eddie. 

Eddie stood in place, slowly raising his arm to press his hand against the hole in his stomach, looking at it and then looking back up at Richie. Richie could not move or speak; his hands trembling as he dropped his gun to the floor. The second it hit the ground, Eddie’s knees gave out, and he fell to the floor. 

“Eddie,” Richie whispered, his voice lost and broken, and he sunk to his knees, placing Eddie’s head on his lap. Eddie was staring at the ceiling, his breathing harsh and his hands still on his stomach, a line of blood beginning to drip out of the side of his mouth. Richie brushed his fingers against Eddie’s and looked up at the open doorway. The killer was nowhere in sight. 

He turned back and forth to the open door and Eddie, who was now staring at him instead of the ceiling. He lightly squeezed his grip on Richie’s fingers, and Richie locked his eyes with his, still unable to speak, a silent tear running down his cheek. 

Eddie coughed, blood spraying over both of them. 

That’s what snapped him. 

“Eddie,” Richie cried, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Rich,” Eddie said, blood still pouring out of his mouth. 

“No!” Richie sobbed, holding Eddie’s hand tightly and holding it to his face. “It’s all my fucking fault! I hurt you, oh God I hurt you! I hurt you!” 

“Shh,” Eddie comforted, stroking his finger against Richie’s thumb, “I know you’d never hurt me. You’d never hurt me.” 

“No, no, no,” Richie began to grow incoherent, “You can’t leave me. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I did this, oh my God I fucking did this!” 

“Richie, baby, listen to me,” Eddie said, and he wiped away a tear from Richie’s face. “It was not your fault. You would never do this. He tricked us.  _ He  _ did this. I just needed to keep you safe.” 

“I can’t, Eddie, I can’t,” Richie said, “I can’t live without you. Please don’t leave me, Eddie. Please don’t go.” 

Eddie shushed him, making himself smile, and pulled their hands down, kissing Richie’s hand. Richie felt the blood come from Eddie’s mouth and shuddered, but he kept looking. 

He felt safe when he looked at Eddie. 

“You’re okay, Richie. You’re okay. You’re so strong and you’re going to get out of here, okay?” Eddie told him. 

“Not without you. I’m not going anywhere without you. You’re coming with me,” Richie told him. 

“You know I would do anything to go with you. To be with you,” Eddie told him, “And I will be. I promise I will be. Always me and you.” 

“I don’t want you to go,” Richie cried. 

“Shh,” Eddie told him again, “Just give me a minute. I want to look at you for a while. Has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are?” 

Richie smiled weakly. “Shut up.” 

“No, really,” Eddie smiled, but then he coughed again. Richie lowered himself and laid down beside Eddie, holding onto him and resting his head on his chest. He didn’t care about the blood. 

“We were gonna get an apartment,” Richie told him, “Me and you. We were gonna decorate it with stick figure drawings we did with crayons, and we were gonna get a cat. I know you’re allergic, so you were going to have to take allergy pills. I want a bearded dragon too.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie used his other hand to run through Richie’s hair, “I think I could live with that. But only if we get one of the fat orange ones.”

“I’ll get you the fattest,” Richie said, “He’d take up our whole bed.” 

“I don’t know about that. I kick in my sleep,” Eddie said. 

“I’ve known that since we were ten, Eds,” Richie told him, “But I’d spend every night for the rest of my life letting you kick me in your sleep.” 

“Now, that’s love. But it’s the least you can do, after I have to put up with a life of your awful jokes,” Eddie told him. 

_ Love.  _

“The rest of your life, huh?” Eddie continued, “What does that mean?” 

“It means we’re gonna get married,” Richie said, “And I’d wear one of my stupid multi-colored ties, but you’d love it anyway.” 

“I’d fucking adore it,” Eddie told him. “Anything you do. Adore it.” 

“Even when I dance really bad?” Richie asked.

“Obviously!” Eddie said, “I dance even worse,  _ somehow _ . It’s perfect.” 

“Perfect,” Richie said, “That’s my life with you. My life where we have an apartment with our fat orange cat and our bearded dragon, and where we get married and I wear an awful tie. You can wear a flower crown that matches it. Bev said she taught you to make them.” 

“She did, it was a nightmare,” Eddie smiled, “But I’d do it again if you thought I was  _ pretty. _ ” 

“What do you mean, thought you were pretty?” Richie smiled at him, “Eds, you’re the prettiest boy in the world of pretty boys. Even when you’ve got chocolate ice cream all over your face.” 

_ Blood all over your face.  _

“You’re gonna tell me about that? You eat like a two year old!” Eddie told him. 

“Maybe so,” Richie said, “But you love it.” 

“I do. I love it.” 

Richie turned to Eddie, running his thumb over his cheek and kissing the other. “Are you going to marry me?” 

“I am,” Eddie told him, “It was what was meant to happen in this life, and it’s going to happen in another. You just have to find me. Will you find me, Rich?” 

“I’ll find you,” he told him, “I’ll always find you.” 

“I know you will,” Eddie said, and he leaned slightly forward to press his forehead against his. He was weak, and he could barely breathe. He didn’t have much time left. And as he laid there, finally intertwined with the love of his life, that was okay. 

“I love you, Richie,” Eddie whispered to him, “I love you.” 

Richie’s eyes closed, taking a second to seep in the words, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream. Trying to convince himself that this was real. That Eddie loved him. 

So he took a moment to respond, because laying there with him, he felt like he had all the time in the world. All of the time in the world to tell him he loved him back. 

But he never did. Because he  _ didn’t  _ have all the time in the world, and their moment was while Eddie was bleeding out from a gunshot wound, so Richie was so caught up in soaking up the words that he didn’t hear the breathing stop. 

Just as he was going to open his mouth, he felt the hand in his go limp. 

His eyes shot open, and Eddie was staring lifelessly back at him. But he didn’t understand. He just held his cold hand tighter. 

“I love you, Eds,” he said, a smile on his face. “I love you so much.” 

Silence. 

“Eds? Eddie? Can you hear me?” he sat up, taking Eddie’s face into his hands. “I said I loved you. Can’t you hear me?” 

But he couldn’t. 

“C’mon, Eds,” he said. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’ve just got to tell me you’re okay. Can you do that?” 

He couldn’t. 

Richie laid back down, resting his head back on Eddie’s chest. “It’s okay, Eds. I’ve got you. I’ll keep you warm.” He snuggled into him, wrapping his arm around his side tightly. 

He looked up at Eddie’s face, and he was waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to push him off, or maybe  _ not _ , now that things were different. Now that he could hold him and it would be okay. 

He was waiting for him to  _ say something _ , but he didn’t know why. He  _ knew.  _

“C’mon, I’ll take you to our bed,” Richie smiled at him, sitting up and swooping Eddie into his arms. “Don’t tell the others, but I picked the best room in the place for us. The one with the big bed, because you kick in your sleep. It’s really warm, you’re going to love it.” 

He walked to the room, gently placing Eddie on the bed and crawling in next to him. He tucked the blanket over them, holding Eddie’s cheek.

But even with the blanket, Eddie’s body against his was so very cold. He could pretend that he could hear him all he wants, but that could not stop him from being so very cold.

And feeling his cold skin was a slap in the face, because it reminded him that no matter what he could say to Eddie right now, he was  _ dead.  _ He was dead and it’s because of him. 

“Eddie?” he asked, as if it were one last effort to get something back. 

Silence. 

“No,” he threw himself over him, sobbing again. “Don’t leave me, Eddie, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

He held onto him tightly and broke into hysterics, snapping the hardest he ever had. Eddie was gone. Eddie was  _ dead.  _ And he had killed him. 

_ He had killed him.  _

Stan slowly regained consciousness, groaning in pain and raising his hand to the bump on his head. The pain was excruciating and he could feel blood from the back of his head, and he was pretty sure his nose was broken from crashing against the ground. He allowed himself to lay there for a minute, soaking in the pain. He was dazed, trying to put himself back into reality. 

Then, he remembered. 

He’s at the lakehouse. There was a killer on the loose. Most of his friends were dead. He had got punched in the back of the head, while he was waiting out here with Mike-

“Mike!” he exclaimed. He didn’t hear Mike, and he knew that if Mike was here and awake, he’d be at his side. But he wasn’t by his side.  _ Maybe _ he had been knocked out too.  _ Maybe _ . 

He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his curls, ignoring his bloody nose. He had to check on Mike. But he was so afraid. 

“Get it together, Stanley,” he told himself, “He needs you. Your friends need you.” 

So he sat himself up, then stood and stared at the ground in front of him, clenching his fists tightly before he turned around. 

“Mike?” 

He saw Mike laying on the ground and put his hand to his mouth in horror. 

_ Please just be unconscious.  _

“Mike,” he repeated, walking over to him and then sliding to his knees. Now, he had a better look. 

Mike’s hand was obviously shot, a hole through the middle, blood continuing to pour out of it. His neck was showered by bruises; fingerprints. 

“Mike,” he leaned over, checking for a pulse. 

Nothing. 

He looked over at him again, focusing closely on the features of his face. His face which had been so lively. 

_ Dead. _

Stan had taken Mike out here. Stan had said it was okay for them to be out here. Stan had tried to be helpful; and he had failed. 

He had been weak - and now, Mike was dead. 

“Fuck!” he screamed in a fit of rage, falling over and punching into the dirt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

He screamed with all of his might, yanking his hair with both hands and then pushing them into the dirt, clawing it and feeling the dirt seep beneath his fingernails. 

_ Because of him. It happened because of him.  _

Stan jumped onto his feet, grabbing the bat and swinging it against the nearby tree in anger. The bat splinted a little, but it didn’t break. 

He had been scared, and it had cost Mike’s life. It was because he was scared. 

He didn’t think he could stop being scared, but he could stop letting it control him. He could stop letting it put others in danger. 

Because now, he felt more than scared. He was fucking  _ pissed.  _

Stan swore he could never kill someone, no matter the circumstance. But before, he hadn’t known rage like the rage he had felt now. He didn’t know what it was like for his face to burn red and to push his nails into the flesh of his palms and feel the urge to do nothing but scream and  _ destroy.  _ He didn’t know what it was like to have a bloody broken nose and think it felt  _ good.  _

He fell to the ground again, scrunching his face and punching his fist into the dirt. He didn’t care if the killer was watching. Right now, the killer could  _ try him.  _

“I’ll fucking kill you!” he shouted at the woods, but the only response he got was the echo of his voice to the trees and the breeze in the air. 

“Fuck you!” he screamed, and his voice cracked, but he didn’t cry. 

He leaned back over to Mike and cupped his cheek, and his lip quivered but he didn’t cry. 

His face felt dry and empty, and for someone who did a lot of crying, he didn’t have a single tear. 

“I’m sorry, Mike,” he said, pushing his face into his palms and scratching it, small scratches now showering his cheeks. 

Mike had died because he had been afraid. He couldn’t let himself do that anymore. He couldn’t let this happen again. 

Mike had told him he would play an important part in this. He didn’t believe him, but now he was starting to believe that it might be true. But he had to find Richie and Eddie first.

_ Richie and Eddie.  _

They had gone to find the killer. But the killer had been here to kill Mike. If they had got the killer, they surely would have come back for them. 

Maybe the killer had gotten to them too. 

“Please,” he whispered to himself, “Please still be alive.” 

He looked at Mike another time, holding onto his wrist. He was wearing the watch Stan had given him for his birthday last year.   
Stan was angry, but he was afraid. He couldn’t stop being afraid. But he could push it to the side. But he didn’t think he could do that on his own. 

He took off Mike’s watch, sliding it onto his own wrist and tightening it. If he wore this piece of Mike with him, he could be stronger. He wouldn’t be alone. 

He could do this. 

Then, he started to hear something from the house. 

Screaming, crying. Absolute hysterics. 

“Fuck, that’s Richie!” he said to himself, beginning to panic. 

_ He couldn’t let this happen again _ . 

He turned back to Mike one more time, hugging him tightly. “I’ll come back for you, Mikey.” 

He squeezed him once more and stood up, grabbing the baseball bat. Earlier that night, Richie had given him that bat and he let it swing timidly at his side, horrified at the thought of using it. But now, his grip on it was strong, and even if it killed him inside and out, he was ready to swing. He had to protect who he had left. 

He looked back at Mike once more and ran into the house, holding the bat as securely as he could. 

He followed the sound of the crying, and saw the empty hall. The side door was still wide open, and there was blood on the floor and the wall that wasn’t there before. The gun was there too.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, and he ran to pick up the gun just in case and then kept going. The crying was from the room.

“Richie!” he said from outside the door, then slammed it open. 

Richie was on the bed, holding onto Eddie for dear life. He couldn’t see beyond that.

“Rich?” he asked softly, hesitantly walking closer. As he got closer, he could see blood staining the blanket, and practically covering Richie. Eddie was under him, and he wasn’t moving.

Slowly, he rose his hand and set it on Richie’s shoulder. 

At the contact, Richie turned around and faced him. He looked nothing short of  _ destroyed.  _

“Richie,” Stan repeated. 

“I killed him, Stan,” Richie cried, “I killed him. I made a plan to shoot the killer so the door opened and I got scared so I closed my eyes and just  _ shot  _ but it was Eddie instead and then I opened my eyes and he had a bullet in his stomach and now he’s dead because I  _ killed  _ him, I fucking killed him! He’s dead! I killed him!” 

Stan gulped and set the weapons beside them, sitting on the space of the bed beside him and squeezing Richie’s arm. He could see Eddie now, and he bit his lip hard enough to make it bleed. 

“No, Richie, you didn’t,” Stan told him, “It was an accident. You’d never hurt him; I know that. He knows that. You know that.” 

“I killed him, I killed him,” he kept repeating, and went back to clinging onto Eddie’s corpse. “I killed him.” 

Slowly, Stan leaned forward and took hold of Richie’s arms, gently pulling him off of Eddie. He expected resistance, but as soon as Stan began to pull him Richie fell back, allowing himself to fall into Stan’s arms. 

Richie wrapped his arms around Stan and dug his face into his chest, and Stan held him closely. Richie continued to sob into Stan and Stan rested his head on top of him, rubbing circles onto his back. 

“Where’s Mike?” Richie asked, his voice muffled into Stan’s shirt. 

“I’m sorry, Richie,” Stan said blankly. 

Richie’s grip tightened and he began crying again. Stan looked down at him, and it set in that Richie was all he had. 

It was only the two of them. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , tears welled in his eyes. 

The two sat there for a while, Stan rocking Richie gently, and they let themselves cry for what felt like hours. Maybe it had been. Maybe it had been two minutes. 

But now, although he was still crying, Richie’s hysterics had calmed down, now just shuddering into Stan’s hold. Stan took a deep breath, reminding himself that the killer was still out there. This wasn’t over yet. 

But then he looked at Richie. He could tell Richie that they have to get up, that they have to keep fighting. The way Richie would have told him. But he couldn’t find it in himself to do it. So he just held him some more. 

Things started to get quieter, for at least a moment.  _ For a moment.  _

“Well, shit. Things got real messy around here, don’t you think?” 

Stan looked up in alarm, seeing the masked killer standing at the door. He expected Richie to shoot up as well, but he didn’t. He froze, and then slowly turned his head. “No. It can’t be.” 

“Recognize me, Rich? I’m touched. Bev couldn’t quite put her finger on it.” 

“Richie, what is this?” Stan asked. 

Richie had turned around now, emptily looking at the killer. “It can’t be you. It can’t be.” 

“Well, tonight is all about plot twists, isn’t it?” 

“I was your friend,” Richie said, his voice void of emotion. “We were your friends. We took you in.” 

“Richie?” Stan asked again. 

“You were my friends now, were you? So, let me get this straight. I get beaten up for hanging out with you and you guys  _ still  _ don’t let me into your secret club? You limit me to sitting with you at lunch, despite all the shit I went through for being associated with you guys? You want to treat me like that and then call yourselves my  _ friends _ ?” 

“Shit,” Stan’s eyes widened in realization, “Connor?” 

Connor pulled off the mask, throwing it to the floor. “Bingo.” 

Richie reached for the gun Stan had brought in, pulling the trigger without hesitation, but nothing came out. 

“You only had one bullet, remember?” Connor laughed. “So sad, truly. But guess we’ll have to fight this one out like men, right? No bullets allowed.” 

Richie dropped the gun. “How could you do this to me?” 

“Rich, I really thought you were smarter than this. You never really wanted to be my friend. You just gave me pity.”

“That’s not true,” Richie said, “I liked you.  _ We  _ liked you. If I could have stopped what happened to you, I would have.” 

“I don’t know about that, buddy,” Connor said, “I was the one who got beat up while the rest of you were fine and you didn’t even care. You sat with me and told me all about you and your stupid friends and your stupid Eddie and didn’t stop once to think about me.” 

“I didn’t mean to, I promise,” Richie said, “You could have talked to me. You could have told me about this and I would understand.” 

“Too late for that now, isn’t it?” Connor laughed. 

“You were hurt, but how could you do  _ this _ ? You killed people,” Stan said. 

“Richie had everything. You guys had everything. Everything that I ever wanted, at least. But the truth was that you didn’t deserve it. You were happy and I wasn’t, and that didn’t seem fair,” he said. 

“Didn’t seem fair? So it’s fair to murder people?” Stan asked. 

“You guys didn’t deserve it, and there was only one way I could take that away from you. Take that away from  _ you _ , Richie. It had to be this way. It was always a deluded fantasy, but then Richie told me in  _ detail  _ about your little lake house getaway plan. It was perfect,” Connor smirked. 

“You’re disgusting,” Richie said. 

“Is that so?” Connor laughed, “What’s so different about me and you? Don’t forget, we’ve both got blood on our hands.” 

Richie closed his eyes, breathing in. He couldn’t say anything to that. Connor was right. 

“Rot in hell,” Stan spat. 

“See you there,” Connor said, and pulled his knife out of his pocket. Just as he was about to stab Stan, Richie kicked him, sending Connor against the door. While Connor was down, Stan jumped up and grabbed the bat, cornering Connor and raising it. Richie let himself sink off of the bed, sitting on the floor behind Stan. 

Stan gripped the bat, staring down at Connor. 

He was scared. So very scared. But he had to do it. 

He looked at Mike’s watch on his wrist, and he felt brave. 

“Well, would you look at that!” Connor said, “Stanley Uris threatening me? I am  _ quaking _ .” 

“I’ll do it,” Stan said, “I’ll fucking do it.” 

“Then why wait?” Connor asked, “Come on, Stan. Smash my skull in.” 

“I’ll give you one more chance,” Stan said, “Surrender. Give up or I’ll kill you.” 

“I don’t mind dying,” Connor said, “There’s just one thing I have to do first.” 

Connor moved his foot against Stan’s ankle, tripping him to the floor beside him. Stan grunted in pain as he hit his nose again, becoming disoriented for a few moments. While Stan was down, Connor jumped up and tackled Richie, pulling his knife out and digging it into his chest. 

Richie didn’t fight back. He only laid there, while Connor stabbed him again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Stan came back to his senses, shaking his head and getting himself up, grabbing the bat again. 

_ Here goes nothing.  _

“Get the fuck off of him!” Stan yelled, and swung his bat against Connor’s head. 

Connor flew off of Richie, hitting his back against the wall. Stan jumped over and swung his bat against his ribs again. 

And again. 

And again. 

And again. 

“Hit his head, Stan,” Richie said, and then began to cough blood. 

_ Like Eddie had. _ _   
_ Stan stomped on Connor’s broken ribs, twisting his foot and holding him down while he growled in pain. 

He reached the bat out to Richie. “You deserve the honors.” 

Richie sat up, struggling to move from the multiple stab wounds in his chest, but he moved forward and took hold of the bat with shaky hands. 

He was weak from his injuries, but nothing could stop him from doing this. 

“Shouldn’t have fucked with the losers,” he said, and with all the strength he had left, swung the bat against Connor’s skull. 

The killer was dead. 

Richie fell back in defeat, laying in the same place he had been stabbed. 

Stan looked at Connor for a second, letting it sink in.

_ The killer was dead.  _

Then he looked back to Richie. 

“Richie,” Stan said, running over and falling to his level. “He’s dead, Rich, he’s dead. It’s over. You’ve got to stay with me, okay? We’re going to get out of here. I’m going to get you help.” 

Stan attempted to lift Richie. 

“No,” Richie said. 

“No?” Stan asked, pausing. 

“No,” Richie said, “I can’t go.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Richie,” Stan said, “He’s dead now. We made it. We’re going to be okay, and I’m going to get you help. You’ve got to let me try to lift you, okay?” 

“No, Stan,” Richie repeated. “You made it. You’re going to be okay. You need to get out of here.” 

“You made it, too,” Stan argued, “You’re still alive, but not for long if you don’t work with me. Let’s go.” 

“Don’t you see, Stan?” Richie said, and all of the personality in his voice was completely  _ gone _ . “I’m already dead.” 

“What?” Stan asked. 

“I can’t live in a world where I killed Eddie. You have to leave me here.” 

“I’m not leaving you,” Stan said. 

“Please, Stan, please,” Richie said, “You have to let me go.” 

“You’re fucking insane, Richie!” Stan exclaimed, “I’m not leaving you here! You’re all I have left!” 

“Stan, listen to me,” Richie said, raising his hand to Stan’s chin. “You really are the best of us. You’re meant to be the one who survives. You’re going to go on and do great things. You’re going to live for us. All six of us. But I have to go. I can’t live with this. When I killed Eddie, I killed myself too. I’m not here anymore. I could have stopped Connor from stabbing me, could’ve pushed him away. But I didn’t. I wanted to let him. Please, Stan.” 

Stan fell back against the wall, pushing his hands through his hair. “I can’t.” 

“Not to mention that I’m already on my way out, Stanny. It’s a long walk to civilization to get help, and even if I wanted to go I wouldn’t make it. I’ll slow you down, and then you’ll have my rotting corpse to carry around,” he said. 

“Fuck you,” Stan said, but his eyes were pleading for Richie to stay with him. To not leave him. 

“It’s true,” Richie said. “But can I ask you one thing?” 

“Of course,” Stan said. 

“Can you stay with me? Until it happens?” 

Stan closed his eyes tightly, tears dripping out of them. He opened them again, seeing Richie looking back at him, his eyes half closed. “Of course I will.” 

He pulled Richie against him, running his fingers through his hair in comfort. 

“I’m not scared to die,” Richie told him. 

Stan didn’t reply, another tear falling down his cheek as he grabbed Richie’s hand. 

“I have this whole thing with Eds. Like, this whole plan. About our apartment and our pets and our wedding. Our life. And it was supposed to happen here, but it couldn’t. So it’s going to happen in the next universe. I have to go find him. So I’m not scared. I just don’t want to be alone, you know?”

“I’d never leave you alone,” Stan said. 

“I know you wouldn’t,” Richie looked up at him, “You’re like, the best person in the world. And I’m so proud of you, you know that? You did it. I knew you could.” 

Stan smiled at him, pushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“I wanted to come protect you,” Stan said. 

“And you did,” Richie said, “Never forget that. You did. And now, you’re safe, because there’s so much out there you need to do.” 

“I don’t want to do it without you guys,” Stan said.

“But you won’t. You’ll always have us with you. Living for the six of us, remember?” Richie said. 

“Yes,” Stan said, “I will.” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

“Good,” Richie said, “I know you will, Stan. The best.” 

They didn’t speak much more after that, Stan petting Richie’s hair as he drifted off. And then, after a few moments of what could look like peace, Stan felt Richie’s breathing stop. 

“Richie?” he asked. 

But he was gone. 

Stan let himself cry more silent tears, holding onto his hand tightly. He kissed Richie’s forehead, and then sat up, taking him into his arms. 

He pulled open the blanket of the bed and gently rested Richie there, beside Eddie. He tucked the blanket over the two of them, smiling fondly. 

His smile turned into tears, backing up into the wall. But he wasn’t in hysterics. He could do nothing except simply  _ cry.  _

He was alone now. 

He didn’t think he deserved to be the sole survivor. He didn’t think he deserved to survive at all. But he did, and he couldn’t betray his promise. He had to live for them. For all six of them. 

Stan spent a while leaned against the wall, just letting himself cry until he had no more tears. Until he was numb. 

And then, he slowly began to walk out of the room towards the front of the house. He needed to go find civilization. He needed to go deal with the world. 

He opened the door, facing the sunrise, and looked at Mike’s watch. 

_ 5:59 AM. _

The sun crept into the corner of the horizon, painting the sky scarlet and pushing the moon back into the night, waiting to re-emerge for the events of the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story meant so much to us and we are so emotional that it is over. Thank you so much to everyone who read or commented, your support means the world and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much!

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think will happen next?  
> Say hi to us on twitter- @starlightozier and @kingkaspbrak


End file.
